My disillusionment in Russia

11

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MY DISILLUSIONMENT
IN RUSSIA

MY DISILLUSIONMENT
IN RUSSIA

BY
EMMA GOLDMAN

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

1923

COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO IORKIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

AT
THE COUNTRY LIKE TRESS, CiARDEN CITY, N. Y.

Fir it Edition

PREFACE

THE decision to record my experiences,
observations, and reactions during my
stay in Russia I had made long before I
thought of leaving that country. In fact, that
was my main reason for departing from that
tragically heroic land.

The strongest of us are loath to give up a long-
cherished dream. I had come to Russia pos
sessed by the hope that I should find a new-born
country, with its people wholly consecrated to
the great, though very difficult, task of revolu
tionary reconstruction. And I had fervently
hoped that I might become an active part of the
inspiring work.

I found reality in Russia grotesque, totally
unlike the great ideal that had borne me upon the
crest of high hope to the land of promise. It re
quired fifteen long months before I could get my
bearings. Each day, each week, each month
added new links to the fatal chain that pulled
down my cherished edifice. I fought desper
ately against the disillusionment. For a long

vi PREFACE

time I strove against the still voice within me
which urged me to face the overpowering facts.
I would not and could not give up;

Then came Kronstadt. It was the final
wrench. It completed the terrible realization
that the Russian Revolution was no more.

I saw before me the Bolshevik State, formid
able, crushing every constructive revolutionary
effort, suppressing, debasing, and disintegrating
everything. Unable and unwilling to become a
cog in that sinister machine, and aware that I
could be of no practical use to Russia and her
people, I decided to leave the country. Once
out of it, I would relate honestly, frankly, and as
objectively as humanly possible to me the story
of my two years' stay in Russia.

I left in December, 1921. I could have written
then, fresh under the influence of the ghastly
experience. But I waited four months before I
could bring myself to write a series of articles. I
delayed another four months before beginning
the present volume.

I do not pretend to write a history. Removed
by fifty or a hundred years from the events he is
describing, the historian may seem to be objec
tive. But real history is not a compilation of
mere data. It is valueless without the human

PREFACE vil

element which the historian necessarily gets from
the writings of the contemporaries of the events
in question. It is the personal reactions of the
participants and observers which lend vitality to
all history and make it vivid and alive. Thus,
numerous histories have been written of the
French Revolution; yet there are only a very few
that stand out true and convincing, illuminative
in the degree in which the historian has felt his
subject through the medium of human docu
ments left by the contemporaries of the period.

I myself— and I believe, most students of his-
tory — have felt and visualized the Great French
Revolution much more vitally from the letters
and diaries of contemporaries, such as Mme.
Roland, Mirabeau, and other eye witnesses, than
from the so-called objective historians. By a
strange coincidence a volume of letters written
during the French Revolution, and compiled by
the able German anarchist publicist, Gustav
Landauer, came into my hands during the most
critical period of my Russian experience. I was
actually reading them while hearing the Bolshe
vik artillery begin the bombardment of the
Kronstadt rebels. Those letters gave me a most
vivid insight into the events of the French
Revolution. As never before they brought

viii PREFACE

home to me the realization that the Bolshevik
regime in Russia was, on the whole, a significant
replica of what had happened in France more
than a century before.

Great interpreters of the French Revolution,
like Thomas Carlyle and Peter Kropotkin, drew
their understanding and inspiration from the
human records of the period. Similarly will the
future historians of the Great Russian Revolu
tion — if they are to write real history and not a
mere compilation of facts— draw from the im
pressions and reactions of those who have lived
through the Russian Revolution, who have
shared the misery and travail of the people, and
who actually participated in or witnessed the
tragic panorama in its daily unfoldment.

While in Russia I had no clear idea how much
had already been written on the subject of the
Russian Revolution. But the few books which
reached me occasionally impressed me as most
inadequate. They were written by people with
no first-hand knowledge of the situation and were
sadly superficial. Some of the writers had spent
from two weeks to two months in Russia, did
not know the language of the country, and in
most instances were chaperoned by official
guides and interpreters. I do not refer here to the

PREFACE ix

writers who, in and out of Russia, play the role
of Bolshevik court functionaries. They are a
class apart. With them I deal in the chapter on
the "Travelling Salesmen of the Revolution."
Here I have in mind the sincere friends of the
Russian Revolution. The work of most of them
has resulted in incalculable confusion and mis
chief. They have helped to perpetuate the
myth that the Bolsheviki and the Revolution
are synonymous. Yet nothing is further from
the truth.

The actual Russian Revolution took place in
the summer months of 1917. During that period
the peasants possessed themselves of the land,
the workers of the factories, thus demonstrating
that they knew well the meaning of social revolu
tion. The October change was the finishing
touch to the work begun six months previously.
In the great uprising the Bolsheviki assumed
the voice of the people. They clothed them
selves with the agrarian programme of the
Social Revolutionists and the industrial tactics
of the Anarchists. But after the high tide of
revolutionary enthusiasm had carried them into
power, the Bolsheviki discarded their false
plumes. It was then that began the spiritual
separation between the Bolsheviki and the Rus-

PREFACE

sian Revolution. With each succeeding day the
gap grew wider, their interests more conflicting.
To-day it is no exaggeration to state that the
Bolsheviki stand as the arch enemies of the
Russian Revolution.

Superstitions die hard. In the case of this
modern superstition the process is doubly hard
because various factors have combined to ad
minister artificial respiration. International in
tervention, the blockade, and the very efficient
world propaganda of the Communist Party have
kept the Bolshevik myth alive. Even the
terrible famine is being exploited to that end.

How powerful a hold that superstition wields I
realize from my own experience. I had always
known that the Bolsheviki are Marxists. For
thirty years I fought the Marxian theory as
a cold, mechanistic, enslaving formula. In
pamphlets, lectures, and debates I argued
against it. I was therefore not unaware of what
might be expected from the Bolsheviki. But
the Allied attack upon them made them the
symbol of the Russian Revolution, and brought
me to their defence.

From November, 1917, until February, 1918,
while out on bail for my attitude against the
war, I toured America in defence of the Bolshe-

PREFACE xi

viki. I published a pamphlet in elucidation of
the Russian Revolution and in justification of
the Bolsheviki. I defended them as embodying
in practice the spirit of the revolution, in spite of
their theoretic Marxism. My attitude toward
them at that time is characterized in the follow
ing passages from my pamphlet, "The Truth
About the Bolsheviki:"*

The Russian Revolution is a miracle in more than one
respect. Among other extraordinary paradoxes it presents
the phenomenon of the Marxian Social Democrats, Lenin
and Trotsky, adopting Anarchist revolutionary tactics,
while the Anarchists Kropotkin, Tcherkessov, Tschaikov-
sky are denying these tactics and falling into Marxian
reasoning, which they had all their lives repudiated as
"German metaphysics."

The Bolsheviki of 1903, though revolutionists, adhered to
the Marxian doctrine concerning the industrialization of
Russia and the historic mission of the bourgeoisie as a
necessary evolutionary process before the Russian masses
could come into their own. The Bolsheviki of 1917 no
longer believe in the predestined function of the bour
geoisie. They have been swept forward on the waves of
the Revolution to the point of view held by the Anarchists
since Bakunin; namely, that once the masses become con
scious of their economic power, they make their own history
and need not be bound by traditions and processes of a
dead past which, like secret treaties, are made at a round
table and are not dictated by life itself.

*Mother Earth Publishing Association, New York, February, 1917.

xii PREFACE

In 1918, Madame Breshkovsky visited the
United States and began her campaign against
the Bolsheviki. I was then in the Missouri
Penitentiary. Grieved and shocked by the work
of the "Little Grandmother of the Russian Revo
lution," I wrote imploring her to bethink her
self and not betray the cause she had given her
life to. On that occasion I emphasized the fact
that while neither of us agreed with the Bolshe
viki in theory, we should yet be one with them in
defending the Revolution.

When the Courts of the State of New York
upheld the fraudulent methods by which I was
disfranchised and my American citizenship of
thirty-two years denied me, I waived my right
of appeal in order that I might return to Russia
and help in the great work. I believed fervently
that the Bolsheviki were furthering the Revolu
tion and exerting themselves in behalf of the peo
ple. I clung to my faith and belief for more
than a year after my coming to Russia.

Observation and study, extensive travel
through various parts of the country, meeting
with every shade of political opinion and every
variety of friend and enemy of the Bolsheviki—
all convinced me of the ghastly delusion which
had been foisted upon the world.

PREFACE xiii

I refer to these circumstances to indicate that
my change of mind and heart was a painful
and difficult process, and that my final decision
to speak out is for the sole reason that the peo
ple everywhere may learn to differentiate be
tween the Bolsheviki and the Russian Revolu
tion.

The conventional conception of gratitude is
that one must not be critical of those who have
shown him kindness. Thanks to this notion
parents enslave their children more effectively
than by brutal treatment; and by it friends
tyrannize over one another. In fact, all human
relationships are to-day vitiated by this noxious
idea.

Some people have upbraided me for my critical
attitude toward the Bolsheviki. "How un
grateful to attack the Communist Government
after the hospitality and kindness she enjoyed in
Russia," they indignantly exclaim. I do not
mean to gainsay that I have received advantages
while I was in Russia. I could have received
many more had I been willing to serve the powers
that be. It is that very circumstance which has
made it bitter hard for me to speak out against
the evils as I saw them day by day. But finally
I realized that silence is indeed a sign of consent.

xiv PREFACE

Not to cry out against the betrayal of the Rus
sian Revolution would have made me a party to
that betrayal. The Revolution and the welfare
of the masses in and out of Russia are by far too
important to me to allow any personal consider
ation for the Communists I have met and learned
to respect to obscure my sense of justice and to
cause me to refrain from giving to the world my
two years' experience in Russia.

In certain quarters objections will no doubt
be raised because I have given no names of the
persons I am quoting. Some may even exploit
the fact to discredit my veracity. But I prefer
to face that rather than to turn any one over to
the tender mercies of the Tcheka, which would
inevitably result were I to divulge the names of
the Communists or non-Communists who felt
free to speak to me. Those familiar with the
real situation in Russia and who are not under
the mesmeric influence of the Bolshevik supersti
tion or in the employ of the Communists will
bear me out that I have given a true picture.
The rest of the world will learn in due time.

Friends whose opinion I value have been good
enough to suggest that my quarrel with the
Bolsheviki is due to my social philosophy rather
than to the failure of the Bolshevik regime. As

PREFACE xv

an Anarchist, they claim, I would naturally in
sist on the importance of the individual and of
personal liberty, but in the revolutionary period
both must be subordinated to the good of the
whole. Other friends point out that destruction,
violence, and terrorism are inevitable factors in
a revolution. As a revolutionist, they say, I
cannot consistently object to the violence prac
tised by the Bolsheviki.

Both these criticisms would be justified had I
come to Russia expecting to find Anarchism real
ized, or if I were to maintain that revolutions can
be made peacefully. Anarchism to me never
was a mechanistic arrangement of social rela
tionships to be imposed upon man by political
scene-shifting or by a transfer of power from one
social class to another. Anarchism to me was
and is the child, not of destruction, but of con
struction — the result of growth and develop
ment of the conscious creative social efforts of a
regenerated people. I do not therefore expect
Anarchism to follow in the immediate footsteps
of centuries of despotism and submission. And
I certainly did not expect to see it ushered in
by the Marxian theory.

I did, however, hope to find in Russia at least
the beginnings of the social changes for which

xvi PREFACE

the Revolution had been fought. Not the fate
of the individual was my main concern as a
revolutionist. I should have been content if the
Russian workers and peasants as a whole had
derived essential social betterment as a result of
the Bolshevik regime.

Two years of earnest study, investigation, and
research convinced me that the great benefits
brought to the Russian people by Bolshevism
exist only on paper, painted in glowing colours
to the masses of Europe and America by efficient
Bolshevik propaganda. As advertising wizards
the Bolsheviki excel anything the world had ever
known before. But in reality the Russian peo
ple have gained nothing from the Bolshevik ex
periment. To be sure, the peasants have the
land; not by the grace of the Bolsheviki, but
through their own direct efforts, set in motion
long before the October change. That the
peasants were able to retain the land is due
mostly to the static Slav tenacity; owing to the
circumstance that they form by far the largest
part of the population and are deeply rooted in
the soil, they could not as easily be torn away
from it as the workers from their means of pro
duction.

The Russian workers, like the peasants, also

PREFACE xvii

employed direct action. They possessed them
selves of the factories, organized their own shop
committees, and were virtually in control of the
economic life of Russia. But soon they were
stripped of their power and placed under the
industrial yoke of the Bolshevik State. Chattel
slavery became the lot of the Russian proletar
iat. It was suppressed and exploited in the
name of something which was later to bring it
comfort, light, and warmth. Try as I might I
could find nowhere any evidence of benefits
received either by the workers or the peasants
from the Bolshevik regime.

On the other hand, I did find the revolution
ary faith of the people broken, the spirit of
solidarity crushed, the meaning of comradeship
and mutual helpfulness distorted. One must
have lived in Russia, close to the everyday af
fairs of the people; one must have seen and felt
their utter disillusionment and despair to ap
preciate fully the disintegrating effect of the
Bolshevik principle and methods — disintegrating
all that was once the pride and the glory of revolu
tionary Russia.

The argument that destruction and terror are
part of revolution I do not dispute. I know that
in the past every great political and social change

xviii PREFACE

necessitated violence. America might still be
under the British yoke but for the heroic colo
nists who dared to oppose Britis^ tyranny by
force of arms. Black slavery might still be a
legalized institution in the United States but for
the militant spirit of the John Browns. I have
never denied that violence is inevitable, nor do I
gainsay it now. Yet it is one thing to employ
violence in combat, as a means of defence. f'lt is
quite another thing to make a principle of te~rror-
ism, to institutionalize it, to assign it the most
vital place in the social struggle. Such terrorism
begets counter-revolution and in turn itself be
comes counter-revolutionary.

Rarely has a revolution been fought with as
little violence as the Russian Revolution Nor
would have Red Terror followed had the people
and the cultural forces remained in control of
the Revolution. This was demonstrated by the
spirit of fellowship and solidarity which pre
vailed throughout Russia during the first months
after the October revolution. But an insig
nificant minority bent on creating an absolute
State is necessarily driven to oppression and
terrorism.

There is another objection to my criticism on
the part of the Communists. Russia is on strike,

PREFACE xix

they say, and it is unethical for a revolutionist
to side against the workers when they are strik
ing against tl eir masters. That is pure demagog-
uery practised by the Bolsheviki to silence
criticism.

It is not true that the Russian people are on
strike. On the contrary, the truth of the matter
is that the Russian people have been locked out
and that the Bolshevik State — even as the
bourgeois industrial master — uses the sword and
the gun to keep the people out. In the case of
the Bolsheviki this tyranny is masked by a world-
stirring slogan: thus they have succeeded in
blinding the masses. Just because I am a revo
lutionist I refuse to side with the master class,
which in Russia is called the Communist Party.

Till the end of my days my place shall be with
the disinherited and oppressed. It is immate
rial to me whether Tyranny rules in the Kremlin
or in any other seat of the mighty. I could do
nothing for suffering Russia while in that
country. Perhaps I can do something now by
pointing out the lessons of the Russian expe
rience. Not my concern for the Russian people
only has prompted the writing of this volume:
it is my interest in the masses everywhere.

The masses, like the individual, may not

PREFACE

readily learn from the experience of others. Yet
those who have gained the experience must
speak out, if for no other reason than that they
cannot in justice to themselves and their ideal
support the great delusion revealed to them.

EMMA GOLDMAN.
Berlin, July, 1922.

CONTENTS

PAGE

PREFACE

CHAPTER

I. DEPORTATION To RUSSIA . . .

II. PETROGRAD .

III. DISTURBING THOUGHTS .

IV. Moscow: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

V. MEETING PEOPLE 4-6
VI. PREPARING FOR AMERICAN DEPORTEES 57
VII. REST HOMES FOR WORKERS 67
VIII. THE FIRST OF MAY IN PETROGRAD . 74
IX. INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION ... 79
X. THE BRITISH LABOUR MISSION „ . 9°
XL A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA ... 94
XII. BENEATH THE SURFACE . . . • i°7
XIII. JOINING THE MUSEUM OF THE REVOLU
TION Il8

XIV. PETROPAVLOVSK AND SCHLUSSELBURG 126

XXI

CHAPTER

CONTENTS

XV. THE TRADE UNIONS ....
XVI. MARIA SPIRIDONOVA . I4r

XVII. ANOTHER VISIT TO PETER KROPOTKIN 153
XVIII. EN ROUTE .... l6o

XIX. IN KHARKOV

• • • . 1 OO

XX. POLTAVA ...
XXI. KIEV

MY DISILLUSIONMENT
IN RUSSIA

MY DISILLUSIONMENT
IN RUSSIA

CHAPTER I

DEPORTATION TO RUSSIA

ON THE night of December 21, 1919,
together with two hundred and forty-
eight other political prisoners, I was de
ported from America. Although it was gener
ally known we were to be deported, few really
believed that the United States would so com
pletely deny her past as an asylum for political
refugees, some of whom had lived and worked in
America for more than thirty years.

In my own case, the decision to eliminate me
first became known when, in 1909, the Federal
authorities went out of their way to disfranchise
the man whose name gave me citizenship. That
Washington waited till 1917 was due to the cir"
cumstance that the psychologic moment for the
finale was lacking. Perhaps I should have con-

2 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
tested my case at that time. With the then-
prevalent public opinion, the Courts would
probably not have sustained the fraudulent pro
ceedings which robbed me of citizenship. But
it did not seem credible then that America would
stoop to the Tsaristic method of deportation.

Our anti-war agitation added fuel to the war
hysteria of 1917, and thus furnished the Federal
authorities with the desired opportunity to
complete the conspiracy begun against me in
Rochester, N. Y., 1909.

It was on December 5, 1919, while in Chicago
lectunng, that I was telegraphically apprised of
the fact that the order for my deportation was
The question of my citizenship was then
raised in court, but was of course decided ad
versely. I had intended to take the case to-a
higher tribunal, but finally I decided to carry
the matter no further: Soviet Russia was luring

*-v-v s*. £5

me.

Ludicrously secretive were the authorities
about our deportation. To the very last mo
ment we were kept in ignorance as to the time.
I hen, unexpectedly, in the wee small hours of
December 2ist we were spirited away. The
scene set for this performance was most thrilling.
It was six o'clock Sunday morning, December

DEPORTATION TO RUSSIA 3

21, 1919, when under heavy military convoy we
stepped aboard the Buford.

For twenty-eight days we were prisoners.
Sentries at our cabin doors day and night, sen
tries on deck during the hour we were daily
permitted to breathe the fresh air. Our men
comrades were cooped up in dark, damp quarters,
wretchedly fed, all of us in complete ignorance of
the direction we were to take. Yet our spirits
were high — Russia, free, new Russia was before
us.

All my life Russia's heroic struggle for freedom
was as a beacon to me. The revolutionary zeal of
her martyred men and women, which neither
fortress nor katorga could suppress, was my in
spiration in the darkest hours. When the news
of the February Revolution flashed across the
world, I longed to hasten to the land which had
performed the miracle and had freed her people
from the age-old yoke of Tsarism. But America
held me. The thought of thirty years of strug
gle for my ideals, of my friends and associates,
made it impossible to tear myself away. I would
go to Russia later, I thought.

Then came America's entry into the war and
the need of remaining true to the American peo
ple who were swept into the hurricane against

4 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
their will. After all, I owed a great debt, I owed
my growth and development to what was finest
and best in America, to her fighters for liberty
[to the sons and daughters of the revolution to
comej I would be true to them. But the
frenzied militarists soon terminated my work.

At last I was bound for Russia and all else was
almost blotted out. I would behold with mine
own eyes matushka Rossiya, the land freed from
political and economic masters; the Russian
dubinushka, as the peasant was called, raised
from the dust; the Russian worker, the modern
Samson, who with a sweep of his mighty arm had
pulled down the pillars of decaying society. The
twenty-eight days on our floating prison passed
m a sort of trance. I was hardly conscious of
my surroundings.

Finally we reached Finland, across which we

were forced to journey in sealed cars. On the

Russian border we were met by a committee of

the Soviet Government, headed by Zorin. They

rhad come to greet the first political refugees

^driven from America for opinion's sake>,

It was a cold day, with the earth a sheet of
white, but spring was in our hearts. Soon we
were to behold revolutionary Russia. I pre
ferred to be alone when I touched the sacred

DEPORTATION TO RUSSIA 5

soil: my exaltation was too great, and I feared I
might not be able to control my emotion. When
I reached Beloostrov the first enthusiastic recep
tion tendered the refugees was over, but the
place was still surcharged with intensity of
feeling. I could sense the awe and humility
of our group who, treated like felons in the
United States, were here received as dear brothers
and comrades and welcomed by the Red soldiers,
the liberators of Russia.

From Beloostrov we were driven to the
village where another reception had been pre
pared: A dark hall filled to suffocation, the
platform lit up by tallow candles, a huge red
flag, on the stage a group of women in black
nuns' attire. I stood as in a dream in the breath
less silence. Suddenly a voice rang out. It
beat like metal on my ears and seemed unin
spired, but it spoke of the great suffering of the
Russian people and of the enemies of the Revolu
tion. Others addressed the audience, but I was
held by the women in black, their faces ghastly
in the yellow light. Were these really nuns?
Had the Revolution penetrated even the walls of
superstition? Had the Red Dawn broken into
the narrow lives of these ascetics ? It all seemed
strange, fascinating.

6 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Somehow I found myself on the platform. I
could only blurt out that like my comrades I
had not come to Russia to teach: I had come to
learn, to draw sustenance and hope from her, to
lay down my life on the altar of the Revolution.
After the meeting we were escorted to the
waiting Petrograd train, the women in the black
hood intoning the "Internationale," the whole
audience joining in. I was in the car with our
host, Zorin, who had lived in America and spoke
English fluently. He talked enthusiastically
about the Soviet Government and its marvellous
achievements. His conversation was illumina
tive, but one phrase struck me as discordant.
Speaking of the political organization of his
Party, he remarked: "Tammany Hall has noth
ing on us, and as to Boss Murphy, we could teach
him a thing or two." I thought the man was
jesting. What relation could there be between
Tammany Hall, Boss Murphy, and the Soviet
Government ?

I inquired about our comrades who had has
tened from America at the first news of the Revo
lution. Many of them had died at the front,
Zorin informed me, others were working with the
Soviet Government. And Shatov? ' William
Shatov, a brilliant speaker and able organizer,

DEPORTATION TO RUSSIA 7

was a well-known figure in America, frequently
associated with us in our work. We had sent
him a telegram from Finland and were much
surprised at his failure to reply. Why did not
Shatov come to meet us? "Shatov had to
leave for Siberia, where he is to take the post of
Minister of Railways," said Zorin.

In Petrograd our group again received an
ovation. Then the deportees were taken to the
famous Tauride Palace, where they were to be
fed and housed for the night. Zorin asked
Alexander Berkman and myself to accept his
hospitality. We entered the waiting automo
bile. The city was dark and deserted; not a
living soul to be seen anywhere. We had not
gone very far when the car was suddenly halted,
and an electric light flashed into our eyes. It was
the militia, demanding the password. (Petro-
grad had recently fought back the Yudenitch
attack and was still under martial law. The proc
ess was repeated frequently along the route.
Shortly before we reached our destination we
passed a well-lighted building " It is our station
house/' Zorin explained, "but we have few pris
oners there now. Capital punishment is abol
ished and we have recently proclaimed a gen
eral political amnesty."

8 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Presently the automobile came to a halt.
| The First House of the Soviets," said Zorin,
"the living place of the most active members of
our Party." Zorin and his wife occupied two
rooms, simply but comfortably furnished. Tea
and refreshments were served, and our hosts
entertained us with the absorbing story of the
marvellous defence the Petrograd workers had
organized against the Yudenitch forces. How
heroically the men and women, even the chil
dren, had rushed to the defence of the Red City!
What wonderful self-discipline and coopera
tion the proletariat demonstrated. The evening
passed in these reminiscences, and I was about to
retire to the room secured for me when a young
woman arrived who introduced herself as the
sister-in-law of "Bill" Shatov. She greeted us
warmly and asked us to come up to see her sister
who lived on the floor above. When we reached
their apartment I found myself embraced by
big jovial Bill himself. How strange of Zorin to
tell me that Shatov had left for Siberia! What
did it mean? Shatov explained that he had
been ordered not to meet us at the border, to
prevent his giving us our first impressions of
Soviet Russia. He had fallen into disfavour
with the Government and was being sent to

DEPORTATION TO RUSSIA 9

Siberia into virtual exile. His trip had been
delayed and therefore we still happened to find
him.

We spent much time with Shatov before he
left Petrograd. For whole days I listened to his
story of the Revolution, with its light and
shadows, and the developing tendency of the
Bolsheviki toward the right. Shatov, however,
insisted that it was necessary for all the revolu
tionary elements to work with the Bolsheviki
Government. Of course, the Communists had
made many mistakes, but what they did was
inevitable, imposed upon them by Allied inter
ference and the blockade.

A few days after our arrival Zorin asked
Alexander Berkman and myself to accompany
him to Smolny. Smolny, the erstwhile boarding
school for the daughters of the aristocracy, had
been the centre of revolutionary events. Al
most every stone had played its part. Now it
was the seat of the Petrograd Government. I
found the place heavily guarded and giving the
impression of a beehive of officials and govern
ment employees. The Department of the Third
International was particularly interesting. It
was the domain of Zinoviev. I was much im
pressed by the magnitude of it all.

io MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

After showing us about, Zorin invited us to
the Smolny dining room. The meal consisted of
good soup, meat and potatoes, bread and tea — •
rather a good meal in starving Russia, I thought.

Our group of deportees was quartered in
Smolny. I was anxious about my travelling
companions, the two girls who had shared my
cabin on the Buford. I wished to take them
back with me to the First House of the Soviet.
Zorin sent for them. They arrived greatly ex
cited and told us that the whole group of de
portees had been placed under military guard.
The news was startling. The people who had
been driven out of America for their political
opinions, now in Revolutionary Russia again
prisoners — three days after their arrival. What
had happened?

We turned to Zorin. He seemed embar
rassed. "Some mistake/' he said, and immedi
ately began to make inquiries. It developed
that four ordinary criminals had been found
among the politicals deported by the United
States Government, and therefore a guard was
placed over the whole group. The proceeding
seemed to me unjust and uncalled for. It was
my first lesson in Bolshevik methods.

CHAPTER II

PETROGRAD

MY PARENTS had moved to St. Peters
burg when I was thirteen. Under the
discipline of a German school in Konigs-
berg and the Prussian attitude toward every
thing Russian, I had grown up in the atmosphere
of hatred to that country. I dreaded especially
the terrible Nihilists who had killed Tsar Alex
ander II, so good and kind, as I had been taught.
St. Petersburg was to me an evil thing. But the
gayety of the city, its vivacity and brilliancy,
soon dispelled my childish fancies and made the
city appear like a fairy dream. Then my curios
ity was aroused by the revolutionary mystery
which seemed to hang over everyone, and of
which no one dared to speak. When four years
later I left with my sister for America I was no
longer the German Gretchen to whom Russia
spelt evil. My whole soul had been transformed
and the seed planted for what was to be my
life's work. Especially did St. Petersburg re-

12 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

main in my memory a vivid picture, full of life
and mystery.

I found Petrograd of 1920 quite a different
place. It was almost in ruins, as if a hurricane
had swept over it. The houses looked like
broken old tombs upon neglected and forgotten
cemeteries. The streets were dirty and de
serted; all life had gone from them. The popu
lation of Petrograd before the war was almost
two million; in 1920 it had dwindled to five
hundred thousand. Pine people walked about
like living corpses; the shortage of food and fuel
was slowly sapping the city; grim death was
clutching at its heart. Emaciated and frost
bitten men, women, and children were being
whipped by the common lash, the search fora
piece of bread or a stick of wood. It was a
heart-rending sight by day, an oppressive weight
at night. Especially were the nights of the first
month in Petrograd dreadful. The utter still
ness of the large city was paralysing. It fairly
haunted me, this awful oppressive silence broken
only by occasional shots. I would lay awake try
ing to pierce the mystery. Did not Zorin say
that capital punishment had been abolished ? Why
this shooting? Doubts disturbed my mind, but I
tried to wave them aside. I had come to learn.

PETROGRAD 13

Much of my first knowledge and impressions
of the October Revolution and the events that
followed I received from the Zorins. As already
mentioned, both had lived in America, spoke
English, and were eager to enlighten me upon
the history of the Revolution. They were de
voted to the cause and worked very hard; he,
especially, who was secretary of the Petrograd
committee of his party, besides editing the
daily, Krasnaya Gazetta, and participating in
other activities.

It was from Zorin that I first learned about
that legendary figure, Makhno. The latter was
an Anarchist, I was informed, who under the
Tsar had been sentenced to katorga. Liberated
by the February revolution, he became the leader
of a peasant army in the Ukraina, proving him
self extremely able and daring and doing splendid
work in the defence of the Revolution. For
some time Makhno worked in harmony with the
Bolsheviki, fighting the counter-revolutionary
forces. Then he became antagonistic, and now
his army, recruited from bandit elements, was
fighting the Bolsheviki. Zorin related that he
had been one of a committee sent to Makhno to
bring about an understanding. But Makhno
would not listen to reason. He continued his

i4 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

warfare against the Soviets and was considered
a dangerous counter-revolutionist.

I had no means of verifying the story, and I
was far from disbelieving the Zorins. Both ap
peared most sincere and dedicated to their work,
types of religious zealots ready to burn the
heretic, but equally ready to sacrifice their own
lives for their cause. I was much impressed by
the simplicity of their lives. Holding a re
sponsible position, Zorin could have received
special rations, but they lived very poorly, their
supper often consisting only of herring, black
bread, and tea. I thought it especially admirable
because Lisa Zorin was with child at the time.

Two weeks after my arrival in Russia I was
invited to attend the Alexander Herzen com
memoration in the Winter Palace. The white
marble hall where the gathering took place
seemed to intensify the bitter frost, but the peo
ple present were unmindful of the penetrating
cold. I also was conscious only of the unique
situation: Alexander Herzen, one of the most
hated revolutionists of his time, honoured in the
Winter Palace! Frequently before the spirit of
Herzen had found its way into the house of the
Romanovs. It was when the " Kolokol," pub
lished abroad and sparkling with the brilliancy of

PETROGRAD 15

Herzen and Turgenev, would in some mysterious
manner be discovered on the desk of the Tsar.
Now the Tsars were no more, but the spirit of
Herzen had risen again and was witnessing the
realization of the dream of one of Russia's great
men.

One evening I was informed that Zinoviev had
returned from Moscow and would see me. He
arrived about midnight. He looked very tired
and was constantly disturbed by urgent mes
sages. Our talk was of a general nature, of the
grave situation in Russia, the shortage of food
and fuel then particularly poignant, and about
the labour situation in America. He was anx
ious ^o know "how soon the revolution could be
expected in the United States." \He left upon me
no definite impression, but I was conscious of
something lacking in the man, though I could
not determine at the time just what it was.

Another Communist I saw much of the first
weeks was John Reed. I had known him in
America. He was living in the Astoria, working
hard and preparing for his return to the United
States. He was to journey through Latvia and
he seemed apprehensive of the outcome. He
had been in Russia during the October days and
this was his second visit. Like Shatov he also

16 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

insisted that the dark sides of the Bolshevik
regime were inevitable. He believed fervently
that the Soviet Government would emerge from
its narrow party lines and that it would pres
ently establish the Communistic Commonwealth.
We spent much time together, discussing the
various phases of the situation.

So far I had met none of the Anarchists and
their failure to call rather surprised me. One
day a friend I had known in the States came to
inquire whether I would see several members of
an Anarchist organization. I readily assented.
From them I learned a version of the Russian
Revolution and the Bolshevik regime utterly
different from what I had heard before. It was
so startling, so terrible that I could not believe
it. They invited me to attend a small gathering
they had called to present to me their views.

The following Sunday I went to their confer
ence. Passing Nevsky Prospekt, near Liteiny
Street, I came upon a group of women huddled
together to protect themselves from the cold.
They were surrounded by soldiers, talking and
gesticulating. Those women, I learned, were
prostitutes who were selling themselves for a
pound of bread, a piece of soap or chocolate.
The soldiers were the only ones who could af-

PETROGRAD 17

ford to buy them because of their extra rations.
Prostitution in revolutionary Russia. I won
dered. What is the Communist Government
doing for these unfortunates? What are the
Workers' and Peasants' Soviets doing? My
escort smiled sadly. The Soviet Government
had closed the houses of prostitution and was
now trying to drive the women off the streets, but
hunger and cold drove them back again; besides,
the soldiers had to be humoured. It was too
ghastly, too incredible to be real, yet there they
were — those shivering creatures for sale and their
buyers, the red defenders of the Revolution.
"The cursed interventionists, the blockade—
they are responsible," said my escort. Why,
yes, the counter-revolutionists and the blockade
are responsible, I reassured myself. I tried to
dismiss the thought of that huddled group, but
it clung to me. I felt something snap within me.
At last we reached the Anarchist quarters, in
a dilapidated house in a filthy backyard. I was
ushered into a small room crowded with men and
women. The sight recalled pictures of thirty
years ago when, persecuted and hunted from
place to place, the Anarchists in America were
compelled to meet in a dingy hall on Orchard
Street, New York, or in the dark rear room of a

i8 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

saloon. That was in capitalistic America. But
this is revolutionary Russia, which the Anar
chists had helped to free. Why should they
have to gather in secret and in such a place?

That evening and the following day I listened
to a recital of the betrayal of the Revolution by
the Bolshevik!. Workers from the Baltic facto
ries spoke of their enslavement, Kronstadt sailors
voiced their bitterness and indignation against
the people they had helped to power and who
had become their masters. One of the speakers
had been condemned to death by the Bolsheviki
for his Anarchist ideas, but had escaped and
was now living illegally. He related how the
sailors had been robbed of the freedom of their
Soviets, how every breath of life was being cen
sored. Others spoke of the Red Terror and
repression in Moscow, which resulted in the
throwing of a bomb into the gathering of the
Moscow section of the Communist Party in Sep
tember, 1919. They told me of the over-filled
prisons, of the violence practised on the workers
and peasants. I listened rather impatiently, for
everything in me cried out against this indict
ment. It sounded impossible; it could not be.
Someone was surely at fault, but probably it
was they, my comrades, I thought. They were

PETROGRAD 19

unreasonable, impatient for immediate results.
Was not violence inevitable in a revolution, and
was it not imposed upon the Bolsheviki by the
Interventionists ? My comrades were indignant.
*' Disguise yourself so the Bolsheviki do not
recognize you; take a pamphlet of Kropotkin
and try to distribute it in a Soviet meeting.
You will soon see whether we told you the truth.
'Above all, get out of the First House of the
Soviet. Live among the people and you will
have all the proofs you need."

How childish and trifling it all seemed in the
face of the world event that was taking place in
Russia! No, I could not credit their stories.
I would wait and study conditions. But my
mind was in a turmoil, and the nights became
more oppressive than ever.

The day arrived when I was given a chance to
attend the meeting of the Petro-Soviet. It was
to be a double celebration in honour of the return
of Karl Radek to Russia and Joffe's report on the
peace treaty with Esthonia. As usual I went
with the Zorins. The gathering was in the
Tauride Palace, the former meeting place of the
Russian Duma. Every entrance to the hall
was guarded by soldiers, the platform sur
rounded by them holding their guns at attention.

20 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

The hall was crowded to the very doors. I was
on the platform overlooking the sea of faces
below. Starved and wretched they looked,
these sons and daughters of the people, the
heroes of Red Petrograd. How they had suf
fered and endured for the Revolution! I felt
very humble before them.

Zinoviev presided. After the "Internationale"
had been sung by the audience standing, Zino
viev opened the meeting. He spoke at length.
His voice is high pitched, without depth. The
moment I heard him I realized what I had missed
in him at our first meeting — depth, strength of
character. Next came Radek. He was clever,
witty, sarcastic, and he paid his respects to the
counter-revolutionists and to the White Guards.
Altogether an interesting man and an interesting
address.

JofTe looked the diplomat. Well fed and
groomed, he seemed rather out of place in that
assembly. He spoke of the peace conditions
with Esthonia, which were received with en
thusiasm by the audience. Certainly these
people wanted peace. Would it ever come to
Russia?

Last spoke Zorin, by far the ablest and most
convincing that evening. Then the meeting

PETROGRAD 21

was thrown open to discussion. A Menshevik
asked for the floor. Immediately pandemonium
broke loose. Yells of "Traitor!" "Kolchak!"
"Counter-Revolutionist!" came from all parts
of the audience and even from the platform. It
looked to me like an unworthy proceeding for a
revolutionary assembly.

On the way home I spoke to Zorin about it.
He laughed. " Free speech is a bourgeois super-^
stition," he said; "during a revolutionary period
there can be no free speech." I was rather du
bious about the sweeping statement, but I felt
that I had no right to judge. I was a newcomer,
while the people at the Tauride Palace had
sacrificed and suffered so much for the Revolu
tion. I had no right to judge.

CHAPTER III

DISTURBING THOUGHTS

E'E went on. Each day brought new con
flicting thoughts and emotions. The
feature which affected me most was the
inequality I witnessed in my immediate environ
ment. I learned that the rations issued to the
tenants of the First House of the Soviet (Astoria)
were much superior to those received by the
workers in the factories. To be sure, they were
not sufficient to sustain life — but no one in the
Astoria lived from these rations alone. The
members of the Communist Party, quartered in
the Astoria, worked in Smolny, and the rations
in Smolny were the best in Petrograd. More
over, trade was not entirely suppressed at that
time. The markets were doing a lucrative busi
ness, though no one seemed able or willing to
explain to me where the purchasing capacity
came from. The workers could not afford to
buy butter which was then 2,000 rubles a pound,

22

DISTURBING THOUGHTS 23

sugar at 3,000, or meat at 1,000. The inequality
was most apparent in the Astoria kitchen. I
went there frequently, though it was torture to
prepare a meal : the savage scramble for an inch
of space on the stove, the greedy watching of the
women lest any one have something extra in the
saucepan, the quarrels and screams when some
one fished out a piece of meat from the pot of a
neighbour! But there was one redeeming fea
ture in the picture — it was the resentment of
the servants who worked in the Astoria. They
were servants, though called comrades, and they
felt keenly the inequality : the Revolution to them
was not a mere theory to be realized in years to
come. It was a living thing. I was made aware
of it one day.

The rations were distributed at the Com
missary, but one had to fetch them himself.
One day, while waiting my turn in the long line,
a peasant girl came in and asked for vinegar.
"Vinegar! who is it calls for such a luxury?"
cried several women. It appeared that the girl
was Zinoviev's servant. She spoke of him as
her master, who worked very hard and was
surely entitled to something extra. At once a
storm of indignation broke loose. "Master!
is that what we made the Revolution for, or was

24 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

it to do away with masters ? Zinoviev is no more
than we, and he is not entitled to more."

These workingwomen were crude, even brutal,
but their sense of justice was instinctive. The
Revolution to them was something fundamen
tally vital. They saw the inequality at every
step and bitterly resented it. I was disturbed.
I sought to reassure myself that Zinoviev and
the other leaders of the Communists would not
use their power for selfish benefit. It was the
shortage of food and the lack of efficient organi
zation which made it impossible to feed all alike,
and of course the blockade and not the Bolshe-
viki was responsible for it. The Allied Inter
ventionists, who were trying to get at Russia's
throat, were the cause.

Every Communist I met reiterated this
thought; even some of the Anarchists insisted on
it. The little group antagonistic to the Soviet
Government was not convincing. But how
reconcile the explanation given to me with some
of the stories I learned every day — stories of
systematic terrorism, of relentless persecution,
and suppression of other revolutionary elements?

Another circumstance which perplexed me
was that the markets were stacked with meat,
fish, soap, potatoes, even shoes, every time that

DISTURBING THOUGHTS 25

the rations were given out. How did these
things get to the markets? Everyone spoke
about it, but no one seemed to know. One day
I was in a watchmaker's shop when a soldier
entered. He conversed with the proprietor in
Yiddish, relating that he had just returned from
Siberia with a shipment of tea. Would the
watchmaker take fifty pounds ? Tea was sold at
a premium at the time — no one but the privileged
few could permit themselves such a luxury. Of
course the watchmaker would take the tea.
When the soldier left I asked the shopkeeper if he
did not think it rather risky to transact such
illegal business so openly. I happen to under
stand Yiddish, I told him. Did he not fear I
would report him? "That's nothing," the man
replied nonchalantly, "the Tcheka knows all
about it — it draws its percentage from the
soldier and myself."

I began to suspect that the reason for much of
the evil was also within Russia, not only outside
of it. But then, I argued, police officials and
detectives graft everywhere. That is the com
mon disease of the breed. In Russia, where
scarcity of food and three years of starvation
must needs turn most people into grafters, theft
is inevitable. The Bolsheviki are trying to

26 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

suppress it with an iron hand. How can they
be blamed? But try as I might I could not
silence my doubts. I groped for some moral
support, for a dependable word, for someone to
shed light on the disturbing questions.

It occurred to me to write to Maxim Gorki.
He might help. I called his attention to his
own dismay and disappointment while visiting
America. He had come believing in her democ
racy and liberalism, and found bigotry and lack
of hospitality instead. I felt sure Gorki would
understand the struggle going on within me,
though the cause was not the same. Would he
see me ? Two days later I received a short note
asking me to call.

I had admired Gorki for many years. He was
the living affirmation of my belief that the crea
tive artist cannot be suppressed. Gorki, the
child of the people, the pariah, had by his genius
become one of the world's greatest, one who by
his pen and deep human sympathy made the
social outcast our kin. For years I toured
America interpreting Gorki's genius to the
American people, elucidating the greatness,
beauty, and humanity of the man and his works.
Now I was to see him and through him get a
glimpse into the complex soul of Russia.

DISTURBING THOUGHTS 27

I found the main entrance of his house nailed
up, and there seemed to be no way of getting in.
I almost gave up in despair when a woman
pointed to a dingy staircase. I climbed to the
very top and knocked on the first door I saw. It
was thrown open, momentarily blinding me with
a flood of light and steam from an overheated
kitchen. Then I was ushered into a large din
ing room. It was dimly lit, chilly and cheerless
in spite of a fire and a large collection of Dutch
china on the walls. One of the three women I
had noticed in the kitchen sat down at the table
with me, pretending to read a book but all the
while watching me out of the corner of her eye.
It was an awkward half hour of waiting.

Presently Gorki arrived. Tall, gaunt, and
coughing, he looked ill and weary. He took me
to his study, semi-dark and of depressing effect.
No sooner had we seated ourselves than the door
flew open and another young woman, whom I
had not observed before, brought him a glass of
dark fluid, medicine evidently. Then the tele
phone began to ring; a few minutes later Gorki
was called out of the room. I realized that I
would not be able to talk with him. Returning,
he must have noticed my disappointment. We
agreed to postpone our talk till some less dis-

28 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

turbed opportunity presented itself. He es
corted me to the door, remarking, "You ought
to visit the Baltflot [Baltic Fleet]. The Kron-
stadt sailors are nearly all instinctive Anarchists.
You would find a field there." I smiled. "In
stinctive Anarchists?" I said, "that means they
are unspoiled by preconceived notions, unsophis
ticated, and receptive. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes, that is what I mean," he replied.

The interview with Gorki left me depressed.
Nor was our second meeting more satisfactory
on the occasion of my first trip to Moscow.
By the same train travelled Radek, Demyan
Bedny, the popular Bolshevik versifier, and Zip-
perovitch, then the president of the Petrograd
unions. We found ourselves in the same car,
the one reserved for Bolshevik officials and State
dignitaries, comfortable and roomy. On the
other hand, the "common" man, the non-
Communist without influence, had literally to
fight his way into the always overcrowded rail
way carriages, provided he had a propusk to
travel — a most difficult thing to procure.

I spent the time of the journey discussing
Russian conditions with Zipperovitch, a kindly
man of deep convictions, and with Demyan
Bedny, a big coarse-looking man. Radek held

DISTURBING THOUGHTS 29

forth at length on his experiences in Germany
and German prisons.

I learned that Gorki was also on the train, and
I was glad of another opportunity for a chat with
him when he called to see me. The one thing
uppermost in my mind at the moment was an
article which had appeared in the Petrograd
Pravda a few days before my departure. It
treated of morally defective children, the writer
urging prison for them. Nothing I had heard
or seen during my six weeks in Russia so out
raged me as this brutal and antiquated attitude
toward the child. I was eager to know what
Gorki thought of the matter. Of course, he was
opposed to prisons for the morally defective, he
would advocate reformatories instead. "What
do you mean by morally defective?" I asked.
"Our young are the result of alcoholism rampant
during the Russian-Japanese War, and of
syphilis. What except moral defection could re
sult from such a heritage ?" he replied. I argued
that morality changes with conditions and
climate, and that unless one believed in the
theory of free will one cannot consider morality
a fixed matter. As to children, their sense of
responsibility is primitive, and they lack the
spirit of social adherence. But Gorki insisted

30 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

that there was a fearful spread of moral defection
among children and that such cases should be
isolated.

I then broached the problem that was troub
ling me most. What about persecution and
terror — were all the horrors inevitable, or was
there some fault in Bolshevism itself? The
Bolsheviki were making mistakes, but they were
doing the best they knew how, Gorki said drily.
Nothing more could be expected, he thought.

I recalled a certain article by Gorki, pub
lished in his paper, New Life, which I had
read in the Missouri Penitentiary. It was a
scathing arraignment of the Bolsheviki. There
must have been powerful reasons to change
Gorki's point of view so completely. Perhaps
he is right. I must wait. I must study the
situation; I must get at the facts. Above all,
I must see for myself Bolshevism at work.

We spoke of the drama. On my first visit,
by way of introduction, I had shown Gorki an
announcement card of the dramatic course I had
given in America. John Galsworthy was among
the playwrights I had discussed then. Gorki
expressed surprise that I considered Galsworthy
an artist. In his opinion Galsworthy could not
be compared,with Bernard Shaw. I had to dif-

DISTURBING THOUGHTS 31

fer. I did not underestimate Shaw, but con
sidered Galsworthy the greater artist. I de
tected irritation in Gorki, and as his hacking
cough continued, I broke off the discussion. He
soon left. I remained dejected from the inter
view. It gave me nothing.

When we pulled into the Moscow station my
chaperon, Demyan Bedny, had vanished and I
was left on the platform with all my traps. Radek
came to my rescue. He called a porter, took me
and my baggage to his waiting automobile and
insisted that I come to his apartments in the
Kremlin. There I was graciously received by
his wife and invited to dinner served by their
maid. After that Radek began the difficult
task of getting me quartered in the Hotel Na
tional, known as the First House of the Moscow
Soviet. With all his influence it required hours
to secure a room for me.

Radek's luxurious apartment, the maidserv
ant, the splendid dinner seemed strange in
Russia. But the comradely concern of Radek
and the hospitality of his wife were grateful to
me. Except at the Zorins and the Shatovs I
had not met with anything like it. I felt that
kindliness, sympathy, and solidarity were still
alive in Russia.

CHAPTER IV

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COMING from Petrograd to Moscow is
like being suddenly transferred from a
desert to active life, so great is the con
trast. On reaching the large open square in
front of the main Moscow station I was amazed
at the sight of busy crowds, cabbies, and porters.
The same picture presented itself all the way
from the station to the Kremlin. The streets
were alive with men, women, and children. Al
most everybody carried a bundle, or dragged a
loaded sleigh. There was life, motion, and
movement, quite different from the stillness that
oppressed me in Petrograd.

I noticed considerable display of the military
in the city, and scores of men dressed in leather
suits with guns in their belts. "Tcheka men,
our Extraordinary Commission," explained
Radek. I had heard of the Tcheka before:
Petrograd talked of it with dread and hatred.
However, the soldiers and Tchekists were never

I a

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 33

much in evidence in the city on the Neva.
Here in Moscow they seemed everywhere.
Their presence reminded me of a remark Jack
Reed had made: "Moscow is a military encamp
ment," he had said; "spies everywhere, the
bureaucracy most autocratic. I always feel
relieved when I get out of Moscow. But, then,
Petrograd is a proletarian city and is permeated
with the spirit of the Revolution. Moscow al
ways .was hierarchical. It is much more so
now." I found that Jack Reed was right. Mos
cow was indeed hierarchical. Still the life was
intense, varied, and interesting. What struck
me most forcibly, besides the display of militar
ism, was the preoccupation of the people. There
seemed to be no common interest between them.
Everyone rushed about as a detached unit in
quest of his own, pushing and knocking against
everyone else. Repeatedly I saw women or
children fall from exhaustion without any one
stopping to lend assistance. People stared at
me when I would bend over the heap on the
slippery pavement or gather up the bundles
that had fallen into the street. I spoke to friends
about what looked to me like a strange lack of
fellow-feeling. They explained it as a result
partly of the general distrust and suspicion

34 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

created by the Tcheka, and partly due to the
absorbing task of getting the day's food. One
had neither vitality nor feeling left to think of
others. Yet there did not seem to be such a
scarcity of food as in Petrograd, and the people
were warmer and better dressed.

I spent much time on the streets and in the
market places. Most of the latter, as also the
famous Soukharevka, were in full operation.
Occasionally soldiers would raid the markets;
but as a rule they were suffered to continue.
They presented the most vital and interesting
part of the city's life. Here gathered proletar
ian and aristocrat, Communist and bourgeois,
peasant and intellectual. Here they were bound
by the common desire to sell and buy, to trade
and bargain. Here one could find for sale a
rusty iron pot alongside of an exquisite ikon; an
old pair of shoes and intricately worked lace; a
few yards of cheap calico and a beautiful old
Persian shawl. The rich of yesterday, hungry
and emaciated, denuding themselves of their last
glories; the rich of to-day buying — it was indeed
an amazing picture in revolutionary Russia.

Who was buying the finery of the past, and
where did the purchasing power come from?
The buyers were numerous. In Moscow one

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 35

was not so limited as to sources of information
as in Petrograd; the very streets furnished that

source.

The Russian people even after four years of
war and three years of revolution remained un
sophisticated. They were suspicious of strangers
and reticent at first. But when they learned
that one had come from America and did not
belong to the governing political party, they
gradually lost their reserve. Much information
I gathered from them and some explanation of the
things that perplexed me since my arrival,
talked frequently with the workers and peasants
and the women on the markets.

The forces which had led up to the Russian
Revolution had remained terra incognita to these
simple folk, but the Revolution itself had struck
deep into their souls. They knew nothing of
theories, but they believed that there was to be
no more of the hated barin (master) and now the
barin was again upon them. 'The barin has
everything/' they would say, "white bread,
clothing, even chocolate, while we have nothing/'
"Communism, equality, freedom," they jeered,
"lies and deception."

I would return to the National bruised and
battered, my illusions gradually shattered, my

36 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
foundations crumbling. But I would not let go.
After all, I thought, the common people could
not understand the tremendous difficulties con
fronting the Soviet Government: the imperialist
forces arraigned against Russia, the many at
tacks which drained her of her men who other
wise would be employed in productive labour, the
blockade which was relentlessly slaying Russia's
young and weak. Of course, the people could
not understand these things, and I must not be
misled by their bitterness born of suffering. I
must be patient. I must get to the source of
the evils confronting me.

The National, like the Petrograd Astoria,
was a former hotel but not nearly in as good con
dition. No rations were given out there except
three quarters of a pound of bread every two
days. Instead there was a common dining
room where dinners and suppers were served^
The meals consisted of soup and a little meat,
sometimes fish or pancakes, and tea. In the
evening we usually had kasha and tea. The food
was not too plentiful, but one could exist on it
were it not so abominably prepared.

I saw no reason for this spoiling of provisions.
Visiting the kitchen I discovered an array of
servants controlled by a number of officials,

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 37

commandants, and inspectors. The kitchen staff
were poorly paid; moreover, they were not given
the same food served to us. They resented
this discrimination and their interest was not
in their work. This situation resulted in much
graft and waste, criminal in the face of the
general scarcity of food. Few of the tenants
of the National, I learned, took their meals in
the common dining room. They prepared or
had their meals prepared by servants in a sepa
rate kitchen set aside for that purpose. There,
as in the Astoria, I found the same scramble for
a place on the stove, the same bickering and
quarrelling, the same greedy, envious watching of
each other. Was that Communism in action,
I wondered. I heard the usual explanation:
Yudenitch, Denikin, Kolchak, the blockade-
but the stereotyped phrases no longer satisfied
me.

Before I left Petrograd Jack Reed said to me :
"When you reach Moscow, look up Angelica
Balabanova. She will receive you gladly and
will put you up should you be unable to find a
room." I had heard of Balabanova before,
knew of her work, and was naturally anxious
to meet her.

A few days after reaching Moscow I called her

38 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

up. Would she see me? Yes, at once, though
she was not feeling well. I found Balabanova
in a small, cheerless room, lying huddled up on
the sofa. She was not prepossessing but for
her eyes, large and luminous, radiating sympathy
and kindness. She received me most graciously,
like an old friend, and immediately ordered the
inevitable samovar. Over our tea we talked
of America, the labour movement there, our de
portation, and finally about Russia. I put to
her the questions I had asked many Commun
ists regarding the contrasts and discrepancies
which confronted me at every step. She sur
prised me by not giving the usual excuses; she
was the first who did not repeat the old refrain.
She did refer to the scarcity of food, fuel, and
clothing which was responsible for much of the
graft and corruption; but on the whole she
thought life itself mean and limited. " A rock
on which the highest hopes are shattered. Life
thwarts the best intentions and breaks the
finest spirits." she said. Rather an unusual
view for a Marxian, a Communist, and one in
the thick of the battle. I knew she was then
secretary of the Third International. Here
was a personality, one who was not a mere echo,
one who felt deeply the complexity of the

MOSCOW : FIRST IMPRESSIONS 39

Russian situation. I went away profoundly
impressed, and attracted by her sad, luminous
eyes.

I soon discovered that Balabanova — or Bala-
banoff, as she preferred to be called — was at the
beck and call of everybody. Though poor in
health and engaged in many functions, she yet
found time to minister to the needs of her legion
callers. Often she went without necessaries
herself, giving away her own rations, always
busy trying to secure medicine or some little
delicacy for the sick and suffering. Her special
concern were the stranded Italians of whom
there were quite a number in Petrograd and
Moscow. Balabanova had lived and worked
in Italy for many years until she almost became
Italian herself. She felt deeply with them, who
were as far away from their native soil as from
events in Russia. She was their friend, their
advisor, their main support in a world of strife
and struggle. Not only the Italians but almost
everyone else was the concern of this remarkable
little woman: no one needed a Communist mem
bership card to Angelica's heart. No wonder
some of her comrades considered her a "senti
mentalist who wasted her precious time in
philanthropy." Many verbal battles I had on

40 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

this score with the type of Communist who had
become callous and hard, altogether barren of
the qualities which characterized the Russian
idealist of the past.

Similar criticism as of Balabanova I heard
expressed of another leading Communist, Lun-
acharsky. Already in Petrograd I was told
sneeringly, "Lunacharsky is a scatterbrain who
wastes millions on foolish ventures." But I was
eager to meet the man who was the Commissar
of one of the important departments in Russia,
that of education. Presently an opportunity
presented itself.

The Kremlin, the old citadel of Tsardom, I
found heavily guarded and inaccessible to the
"common" man. But I had come by appoint
ment and in the company of a man who had an
admission card, and therefore passed the guard
without trouble. We soon reached the Luna
charsky apartments, situated in an old quaint
building within the walls. Though the reception
room was crowded with people waiting to be
admitted, Lunacharsky called me in as soon as I
was announced.

His greeting was very cordial. Did I "intend
to remain a free bird" was one of his first ques
tions, or would I be willing to join him in his

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 41

work? I was rather surprised. Why should
one have to give up his freedom, especially in
educational work? Were not initiative and
freedom essential? However, I had come to
learn from Lunacharsky about the revolutionary
system of education in Russia, of which we had
heard so much in America. I was especially
interested in the care the children were receiving.
The Moscow Pravda, like the Petrograd news
papers, had been agitated by a controversy
about the treatment of the morally defective. I
expressed surprise at such an attitude in Soviet
Russia. "Of course, it is all barbarous and
antiquated," Lunacharsky said, "and I am
fighting it tooth and nail. The sponsors of
prisons for children are old criminal jurists, still
imbued with Tsarist methods. I have organ
ized a commission of physicians, pedagogues, and
psychologists to deal with this question. Of
course, those children must not be punished." I
felt tremendously relieved. Here at last was a
man who had gotten away from the cruel old
methods of punishment. I told him of the
splendid work done in capitalist America by
Judge Lindsay and of some of the experimental
schools for backward children. Lunacharsky
was much interested. "Yes, that is just what

42 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

we want here, the American system of educa
tion," he exclaimed. "You surely do not mean
the American public school system?" I asked.
' You know of the insurgent movement in Ameri
ca against our public school method of educa
tion, the work done by Professor Dewey and
others ?" Lunacharsky had heard little about it.
Russia had been so long cut off from the western
world and there was great lack of books on
modern education. He was eager to learn of the
new ideas and methods. I sensed in Lunacharsky
a personality full of faith and devotion to the
Revolution, one who was carrying on the great
work of education in a physically and spiritually
difficult environment.

He suggested the calling of a conference of
teachers if I would talk to them about the new
tendencies in education in America, to which I
readily consented. Schools and other institu
tions in his charge were to be visited later. I
left Lunacharsky filled with new hope. I would
join him in his work, I thought. What greater
service could one render the Russian people?

During my visit to Moscow I saw Luna
charsky several times. He was always the same
kindly gracious man, but I soon began to notice
that he was being handicapped in his work by

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 43

forces within his own party: most of his good
intentions and decisions never saw the light.
Evidently Lunacharsky was caught in the same
machine that apparently held everything in its
iron grip. What was that machine? Who
directed its movements?

Although the control of visitors at the Na
tional was very strict, no one being able to go in
or out without a special propusk [permit], men
and women of different political factions man
aged to call on me: Anarchists, Left Social
Revolutionists, Cooperators, and people I had
known in America and who had returned to
Russia to play their part in the Revolution.
They had come with deep faith and high hope,
but I found almost all of them discouraged, some
even embittered. Though widely differing in
their political views, nearly all of my callers re
lated an identical story, the story of the high tide
of the Revolution, of the wonderful spirit that
led the people forward, of the possibilities of the
masses, the role of the Bolsheviki as the spokes
men of the most extreme revolutionary slogans
and their betrayal of the Revolution after they
had secured power. All spoke of the Brest
Litovsk peace as the beginning of the downward
march. The Left Social Revolutionists espe-

44 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

cially, men of culture and earnestness, who had
suffered much under the Tsar and now saw their
hopes and aspirations thwarted, were most em
phatic in their condemnation. They supported
their statements by evidence of the havoc
wrought by the methods of forcible requisition
and the punitive expeditions to the villages, of
the abyss created between town and country, the
hatred engendered between peasant and worker.
They told of the persecution of their comrades,
the shooting of innocent men and women, the
criminal inefficiency, waste, and destruction.

How, then, could the Bolsheviki maintain
themselves in power? After all, they were only
a small minority, about five hundred thousand
members as an exaggerated estimate. The
Russian masses, I was told, were exhausted by
hunger and cowed by terrorism. Moreover,
they had lost faith in all parties and ideas.
Nevertheless, there were frequent peasant up
risings in various parts of Russia, but these were
ruthlessly quelled. There were also constant
strikes in Moscow, Petrograd, and other indus
trial centres, but the censorship was so rigid little
ever became known to the masses at large.

I sounded my visitors on intervention. "We
none of outside interference," was the

MOSCOW: FIRST IMPRESSIONS 45

uniform sentiment. They held that it merely
strengthened the hands of the Bolsheviki. They
felt that they could not publicly even speak out
against them so long as Russia was being at
tacked, much less fight their regime. "Have
not their tactics and methods been imposed
on the Bolsheviki by intervention and block
ade?" I argued. "Only partly so," was the^
reply. "Most of their methods spring from
their lack of understanding of the character and
the needs of the Russian people and the mad
obsession of dictatorship, which is not even the
dictatorship of the proletariat but the dictator
ship of a small group over the proletariat."

When I broached the subject of the People's
Soviets and the elections my visitors smiled.
' " Elections ! There are no such things in Russia,
unless you call threats and terrorism elections.
It is by these alone that the Bolsheviki secure a
majority. A few Mensheviki, Social Revolu
tionists, or Anarchists are permitted to slip into
the Soviets, but they have not the shadow of a
chance to be heard."

The picture painted looked black and dismal.
Still I clung to my faith.

CHAPTER V

MEETING PEOPLE

A" A conference of the Moscow Anarchists
in March I first learned of the part some
Anarchists had played in the Russian
Revolution. In the July uprising of 1917 the
Kronstadt sailors were led by the Anarchist
Yarchuck; the Constituent Assembly was dis
persed by Zhelezniakov; the Anarchists had
participated on every front and helped to drive
back the Allied attacks. It was the consensus
of opinion that the Anarchists were always
among the first to face fire, as they were also the
most active in the reconstructive work. One of
the biggest factories near Moscow, which did not
stop work during the entire period of the Revolu
tion, was managed by an Anarchist. Anarchists
were doing important work in the P'oreign Office
and in all other departments. I learned that
the Anarchists had virtually helped the Bolshe-
viki into power. Five months later, in April,
1918, machine guns were used to destroy the

46

MEETING PEOPLE 47

Moscow Anarchist Club and to suppress their
press. That was before Mirbach arrived in
Moscow. The field had to be "cleared of dis
turbing elements," and the Anarchists were the
first to suffer. Since then the persecution of the
Anarchists has never ceased.

The Moscow Anarchist Conference was critical
not only toward the existing regime, but toward
its own comrades as well. It spoke frankly of
the negative sides of the movement, and of its
lack of unity and cooperation during the revolu
tionary period. Later I was to learn more of
the internal dissensions in the Anarchist move
ment. Before closing, the Conference decided
to call on the Soviet Government to release the
imprisoned Anarchists and to legalize Anarchist
educational work. The Conference asked Alex
ander Berkman and myself to sign the resolution
to that effect. It was a shock to me that Anar
chists should ask any government to legalize
their efforts, but I still believed the Soviet Gov
ernment to be at least to some extent expressive
of the Revolution. I signed the resolution,
and as I was to see Lenin in a few days I prom
ised to take the matter up with him.

The interview with Lenin was arranged by
Balabanova. "You must see Hitch, talk to

48 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

him about the things that are disturbing you and
the work you would like to do," she had said. But
some time passed before the opportunity came.
At last one day Balabanova called up to ask
whether I could go at once. Lenin had sent his
car and we were quickly driven over to the Krem
lin, passed without question by the guards, and at
last ushered into the workroom of the all-powerful
president of the People's Commissars.

When we entered Lenin held a copy of the
brochure Trial and Speeches * in his hands. I
had given my only copy to Balabanova, who
had evidently sent the booklet on ahead of us to
Lenin. One of his first questions was, "When
could the Social Revolution be expected in
America?" I had been asked the question
repeatedly before, but I was astounded to hear
it from Lenin. It seemed incredible that a man
of his information should know so little about
conditions in America.

My Russian at this time was halting, but
Lenin declared that though he had lived in
Europe for many years he had not learned to
speak foreign languages: the conversation would
therefore have to be carried on in Russian. At

* Trial and Speeches of Alexander Bfrkman and Emma Goldman be
fore the Federal Court of New York, Junf-July, IQI?. Mother Earth
Publishing Co., New York.

MEETING PEOPLE 49

once he launched into a eulogy of our speeches in
court. " What a splendid opportunity for propa
ganda/' he said; "it is worth going to prison, if
the courts can so successfully be turned into a
forum." I felt his steady cold gaze upon me,
penetrating my very being, as if he were reflect
ing upon the use I might be put to. Presently
he asked what I would want to do. I told him
I would like to repay America what it had done
for Russia. I spoke of the Society of the Friends
of Russian Freedom, organized thirty years ago
by George Kennan and later reorganized by
Alice Stone Blackwell and other liberal Ameri
cans. I briefly sketched the splendid work they
had done to arouse interest in the struggle for
Russian freedom, and the great moral and
financial aid the Society had given through all
those years. To organize a Russian society for
American freedom was my plan. Lenin ap
peared enthusiastic. "That is a great idea,
and you shall have all the help you want. But,
of course, it will be under the auspices of the
Third International. Prepare your plan in
writing and send it to me."

I broached the subject of the Anarchists in
Russia. I showed him a letter I had received
from Martens, the Soviet representative in

So MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

America, shortly before my deportation. Mar
tens asserted that the Anarchists in Russia en
joyed full freedom of speech and press. Since
my arrival I found scores of Anarchists in prison
and their press suppressed. I explained that I
could not think of working with the Soviet
Government so long as my comrades were in
prison for opinion's sake. I also told him of the
resolutions of the Moscow Anarchist Conference.
He listened patiently and promised to bring the
matter to the attention of his party. " But as
to free speech/' he remarked, "that is, of course,
a bourgeois notion. There can be no free speech
in a revolutionary period. We have the peasan
try against us because we can give them nothing
in return for their bread. We will have them on
our side when we have something to exchange.
Then you can have all the free speech you want
—but not now. Recently we needed peasants
•to cart some wood into the city. They demanded
salt. We thought we had no salt, but then we
discovered seventy poods in Moscow in one of
our warehouses. At once the peasants were
willing to cart the wood. Your comrades must
wait until we can meet the needs of the peasants.
Meanwhile, they should work with us. Look at
William Shatov, for instance, who has helped

MEETING PEOPLE 51

save Petrograd from Yudenitch. He works
with us and we appreciate his services. Shatov
was among the first to receive the order of the
Red Banner."

Free speech, free press, the spiritual achieve
ments of centuries, what were they to this man?
A Puritan, he was sure his scheme alone could
redeem Russia. Those who served his plans
were right, the others could not be tolerated.

A shrewd Asiatic, this Lenin. He knows how
to play on the weak sides of men by flattery,
rewards, medals. I left convinced that his
approach to people was purely utilitarian, for
the use he could get out of them for his scheme.
And his scheme — was it the Revolution ?

I prepared the plan for the Society of the
Russian Friends of American Freedom and
elaborated the details of the work I had in mind,
but refused to place myself under the protecting
wing of the Third International. I explained to
Lenin that the American people had little faith
in politics, and would certainly consider it an im
position to be directed and guided by a political
machine from Moscow. I could not consistently
align myself with the Third International.

Some time later I saw Tchicherin. I believe
it was 4 A. M. when our interview took place.

52 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

He also asked about the possibilities of a revolu
tion in America, and seemed to doubt my judg
ment when I informed him that there was no
hope of it in the near future. We spoke of the
I. W. W., which had evidently been misrep
resented to him. I assured Tchicherin that
while I am not an I. W. W. I must state that they
represented the only conscious and effective
revolutionary proletarian organization in the
United States, and were sure to play an impor
tant role in the future labour history of the
country.

Next to Balabanova, Tchicherin impressed
me as the most simple and unassuming of the
leading Communists in Moscow. But all were
equally naive in their estimate of the world out
side of Russia. Was their judgment so faulty
because they had been cut off from Europe and
America so long? Or was their great need of
European help father to their wish? At any
rate, they all clung to the idea of approach
ing revolutions in the western countries, forget
ful that revolutions are not made to order,
and apparently unconscious that their own
revolution had been twisted out of shape and
semblance and was gradually being done to
death.

MEETING PEOPLE 53

The editor of the London Daily Herald, ac
companied by one of his reporters, had preceded
me to Moscow. They wanted to visit Kropot
kin, and they had been given a special car.
Together with Alexander Berkman and A.
Shapiro, I was able to join Mr. Lansbury.

The Kropotkin cottage stood back in the gar
den away from the street. Only a faint ray
from a kerosene lamp lit up the path to the
house. Kropotkin received us with his charac
teristic graciousness, evidently glad at our visit.
But I was shocked at his altered appearance.
The last time I had seen him was in 1907, in
Paris, which I visited after the Anarchist Con
gress in Amsterdam. Kropotkin, barred from
France for many years, had just been given
the right to return. He was then sixty-five
years of age, but still so full of life and energy
that he seemed much younger. Now he looked
old and worn.

I was eager to get some light from Kropotkin
on the problems that were troubling me, particu
larly on the relation of the Bolsheviki to the
Revolution. What was his opinion ? Why had
he been silent so long ?

I took no notes and therefore I can give only
the gist of what Kropotkin said. He stated that

54 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

the Revolution had carried the people to great
spiritual heights and had paved the way for
profound social changes. If the people had been
permitted to apply their released energies, Rus
sia would not be in her present condition of ruin.
The Bolsheviki, who had been carried to the
top by the revolutionary wave, first caught the
popular ear by extreme revolutionary slogans,
thereby gaining the confidence of the masses and
the support of militant revolutionists.

He continued to narrate that early in the
October period the Bolsheviki began to sub
ordinate the interests of the Revolution to the
establishment of their dictatorship, which coerced
and paralysed every social activity. He stated
that the cooperatives were the main medium
that could have bridged the interests of the
peasants and the workers. The cooperatives
were among the first to be crushed. He spoke
with much feeling of the oppression, the persecu
tion, the hounding of every shade of opinion, and
cited numerous instances of the misery and dis
tress of the people. He emphasized that the
Bolsheviki had discredited Socialism and Com
munism in the eyes of the Russian people.

"Why haven't you raised your voice against
these evils, against this machine that is sapping

MEETING PEOPLE 55

the life blood of the Revolution?" I asked. He
gave two reasons. As long as Russia was being
attacked by the combined Imperialists, and
Russian women and children were dying from
the effects of the blockade, he could not join the
shrieking chorus of the ex-revolutionists in the
cry of "Crucify!" He preferred silence. Sec
ondly, there was no medium of expression in
Russia itself. To protest to the Government
was useless. Its concern was to maintain itselt
in power. It could not stop at such "trifles"
as human rights or human lives. Then he added :
"We have always pointed out the effects of
Marxism in action. Why be surprised now?"

I asked Kropotkin whether he was noting
down his impressions and observations. Surely
he must see the importance of such a record
to his comrades and to the workers; in fact, to
the whole world. "No," he said; "it is impossi
ble to write when one is in the midst of great
human suffering, when every hour brings new
tragedies. Then there may be a raid at any
moment. The Tcheka comes swooping down
in the night, ransacks every corner, turns
everything inside out, and marches off with
every scrap of paper. Under such constant
stress it is impossible to keep records. But be-

56 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

sides these considerations there is my book on
Ethics. I can only work a few hours a day, and
I must concentrate on that to the exclusion of
everything else."

After a tender embrace which Peter never
failed to give those he loved, we returned to our
car. My heart was heavy, my spirit confused
and troubled by what I had heard. I was also
distressed by the poor state of health of our
comrade: I feared he could not survive till spring.
The thought that Peter Kropotkin might go to
his grave and that the world might never know
what he thought of the Russian Revolution was
appalling.

CHAPTER VI

PREPARING FOR AMERICAN DEPORTEES

EVENTS in Moscow, quickly following
each other, were full of interest. I
wanted to remain in that vital city, but as
I had left all my effects in Petrograd I decided
to return there and then come back to Moscow
to join Lunacharsky in his work. A few days
before my departure a young woman, an Anarch
ist, came to visit me. She was from the Petro
grad Museum of the Revolution and she called
to inquire whether I would take charge of the
Museum branch work in Moscow. She ex
plained that the original idea of the Museum
was due to the famous old revolutionist Vera
Nikolaievna Figner, and that it had recently
been organized by non-partisan elements. The
majority of the men and women who worked
in the Museum were not Communists, she said;
but they were devoted to the Revolution and
anxious to create something which could in the
future serve as a source of information and in-

57

58 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

spiration to earnest students of the great Rus
sian Revolution. When my caller was informed
that I was about to return to Petrograd, she
invited me to visit the Museum and to become
acquainted with its work.

Upon my arrival in Petrograd I found un
expected work awaiting me. Zorin informed me
that he had been notified by Tchicherin that a
thousand Russians had been deported from
America and were on their way to Russia. They
were to be met at the border and quarters were
to be immediately prepared for them in Petro
grad. Zorin asked me to join the Commission
about to be organized for that purpose.

The plan of such a commission for American
deportees had been broached to Zorin soon after
our arrival in Russia. At that time Zorin
directed us to talk the matter over with Tchich
erin, which we did. But three months passed
without anything having been done about it.
Meanwhile, our comrades of the Buford were
still walking from department to department,
trying to be placed where they might do some
good. They were a sorry lot, those men who
had come to Russia with such high hopes, eager
to render service to the revolutionary people.
Most of them were skilled workers, mechanics —

PREPARING FOR DEPORTEES 59

men Russia needed badly; but the cumbersome
Bolshevik machine and general inefficiency made
it a very complex matter to put them to work.
Some had tried independently to secure jobs,
but they could accomplish very little. More
over, those who found employment were soon
made to feel that the Russian workers resented
the eagerness and intensity of their brothers
from America. "Wait till you have starved as
long as we," they would say, "wait till you have
tasted the blessings of Commissarship, and we
will see if you are still so eager." In every way
the deportees were discouraged and their en
thusiasm dampened.

To avoid this unnecessary waste of energy
and suffering the Commission was at last or
ganized in Petrograd. It consisted of Ravitch,
the then Minister of Internal Affairs for the
Northern District; her secretary, Kaplun; two
members of the Bureau of War Prisoners; Alex
ander Berkman, and myself. The new deportees
were due in two weeks, and much work was to be
done to prepare for their reception. It was un
fortunate that no active participation could be
expected from Ravitch because her time was too
much occupied. Besides holding the post of
Minister of the Interior she was Chief of the

60 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Petrograd Militia, and she also represented the
Moscow Foreign Office in Petrograd. Her regu
lar working hours were from 8 A. M. to 2 A. M.
Kaplun, a very able administrator, had charge
of the entire internal work of the Department
and could therefore give us very little of his time.
There remained only four persons to accomplish
within a short time the big task of preparing liv
ing quarters for a thousand deportees in starved
and ruined Russia. Moreover, Alexander Berk-
man, heading the Reception Committee, had
to leave for the Latvian border to meet the
exiles.

It was an almost impossible task for one per
son, but I was very anxious to save the second
group of deportees the bitter experiences and the
disappointments of my fellow companions of the
Buford. I could undertake the work only by
making the condition that I be given the right of
entry to the various government departments,
for I had learned by that time how paralysing
was the effect of the bureaucratic red tape which
delayed and often frustrated the most earnest
and energetic efforts. Kaplun consented. "Call
on me at any time for anything you may re
quire," he said; "I will give orders that you be
admitted everywhere and supplied with every-

PREPARING FOR DEPORTEES 61

thing you need. If that should not help, call on
the Tcheka," he added. I had never called upon
the police before, I informed him; why should I
do so in revolutionary Russia? "In bourgeois
countries that is a different matter," explained
Kaplun; "with us the Tcheka defends the Revo
lution and fights sabotage/' I started on my
work determined to do without the Tcheka.
Surely there must be other methods, I thought.

Then began a chase over Petrograd. Mate
rials were very scarce and it was most difficult to
procure them owing to the unbelievably central
ized Bolshevik methods. Thus to get a pound
of nails one had to file applications in about ten
or fifteen bureaus; to secure some bed linen or
ordinary dishes one wasted days. Everywhere
in the offices crowds of Government employees
stood about smoking cigarettes, awaiting the
hour when the tedious task of the day would be
over. My co-workers of the War Prisoners'
Bureau fumed at the irritating and unnecessary
delays, but to no purpose. They threatened
with the Tcheka, with the concentration camp,
even with raztrel (shooting). The latter was the
most favourite argument. Whenever any dif
ficulty arose one immediately heard raztreliat-
to be shot. But the expression, so terrible

62 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

in its significance, was gradually losing its effect
upon the people: man gets used to everything.

I decided to try other methods. I would talk
to the employees in the departments about the
vital interest the conscious American workers
felt in the great Russian Revolution, and of their
faith and hope in the Russian proletariat. The
people would become interested immediately,
but the questions they would ask were as strange
as they were pitiful: "Have the people enough
to eat in America? How soon will the Revolu
tion be there? Why did you come to starving
Russia?" They were eager for information and
news, these mentally and physically starved
people, cut off by the barbarous blockade from
all touch with the western world. Things
American were something wonderful to them. A
piece of chocolate or a cracker were unheard-of
dainties — they proved the key to everybody's
heart.

Within two weeks I succeeded in procuring
most of the things needed for the expected de
portees, including furniture, linen, and dishes.
A miracle, everybody said.

However, the renovation of the houses that
were to serve as living quarters for the exiles was
not accomplished so easily. I inspected what,

PREPARING FOR DEPORTEES 63

as I was told, had once been first-class hotels. I
found them located in the former prostitute dis
trict; cheap dives they were, until the Bolsheviki
closed all brothels. They were germ-eaten, ill-
smelling, and filthy. It was no small problem to
turn those dark holes into a fit habitation within
two weeks. A coat of paint was a luxury not to
be thought of. There was nothing else to do but
to strip the rooms of furniture and draperies, and
have them thoroughly cleaned and disinfected.

One morning a group of forlorn-looking crea
tures, in charge of two militiamen, were brought
to my temporary office. They came to work, I
was informed. The group consisted of a one-
armed old man, a consumptive woman, and
eight boys and girls, mere children, pale, starved,
and in rags. "Where do these unfortunates come
from?" I inquired. "They are speculators/'
one of the militiamen replied; "we rounded them
up on the market." The prisoners began to
weep. They were no speculators, they protested ;
they were starving, they had received no bread
in two days. They were compelled to go out
to the market to sell matches or thread to secure
a little bread. In the midst of this scene the
old man fainted from exhaustion, demonstrating
better than words that he had speculated only in

64 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

hunger. I had seen such "speculators" before,
driven in groups through the streets of Moscow
and Petrograd by convoys with loaded guns
pointed at the backs of the prisoners.

I could not think of having the work done by
these starved creatures. But the militiamen in
sisted that they would not let them go; they had
orders to make them work. I called up Kaplun
and informed him that I considered it out of the
question to have quarters for American deportees
prepared by Russian convicts whose only crime
was hunger. Thereupon Kaplun ordered the
group set free and consented that I give them of
the bread sent for the workers' rations. But a
valuable day was lost.

The next morning a group of boys and girls
came singing along the Nevski Prospekt. They
were kursanti from the Tauride Palace who were
sent to my office to work. On my first visit to
the palace I had been shown the quarters of the
kursanti, the students of the Bolshevik academy.
They were mostly village boys and girls housed,
fed, clothed, and educated by the Government,
later to be placed in responsible positions in the
Soviet regime. At the time I was impressed by
the institutions, but by April I had looked some
what beneath the surface. I recalled what a

PREPARING FOR DEPORTEES 65

young woman, a Communist, had told me in
Moscow about these students. 'They are the
special caste now being reared in Russia/' she
had said. "Like the church which maintains
and educates its religious priesthood, our Gov
ernment trains a military and civic priesthood.
They are a favoured lot." I had more than one
occasion to convince myself of the truth of it.
The kursanti were being given every advantage
and many special privileges. They knew their
importance and they behaved accordingly.

Their first demand when they came to me was
for the extra rations of bread they had been
promised. This demand satisfied, they stood
about and seemed to have no idea of work. It
was evident that whatever else the kursanti
might be taught, it was not to labour. But,
then, few people in Russia know how to work.
The situation looked hopeless. Only ten days
remained till the arrival of the deportees, and the
"hotels" assigned for their use were still in as un
inhabitable a condition as before. It was no use
to threaten with the Tcheka, as my co-workers
did. I appealed to the boys and girls in the
spirit of the American deportees who were about
to arrive in Russia full of enthusiasm for the
Revolution and eager to join in the great work of

66 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

reconstruction. The kursanti were the pam
pered charges of the Government, but they were
not long from the villages, and they had had no
time to become corrupt. My appeal was ef
fective. They took up the work with a will, and
at the end of ten days the three famous hotels
were ready as far as willingness to work and hot
water without soap could make them. We were
very proud of our achievement and we eagerly
awaited the arrival of the deportees.

At last they came, but to our great surprise
they proved to be no deportees at all. They
were Russian war prisoners from Germany. The
misunderstanding was due to the blunder of
some official in Tchicherin's office who misread
the radio information about the party due at the
border. The prepared hotels were locked and
sealed; they were not to be used for the returned
war prisoners because "they were prepared for
American deportees who still might come." All
the efforts and labour had been in vain.

CHAPTER VII

REST HOMES FOR WORKERS

SINCE my return from Moscow I noticed
a change in Zorin's attitude: he was re
served, distant, and not as friendly as
when we first met. I ascribed it to the fact that
he was overworked and fatigued, and not wishing
to waste his valuable time I ceased visiting the
Zorins as frequently as before. One day, how
ever, he called up to ask if Alexander Berkman
and myself would join him in certain work he was
planning, and which was to be done in hurry-up
American style, as he put it. On calling to see
him we found him rather excited — an unusual
thing for Zorin who was generally quiet and re
served. He was full of a new scheme to build
"rest homes" for workers. He explained that
on Kameniy Ostrov were the magnificent man
sions of the Stolypins, the Polovtsovs, and others
of the aristocracy and bourgeoisie, and that he
was planning to turn them into recreation cen
tres for workers. Would we join in the work?

67

68 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Of course, we consented eagerly, and the next
morning we went over to inspect the island. It
was indeed an ideal spot, dotted with magnificent
mansions, some of them veritable museums,
containing rare gems of painting, tapestry, and
furniture. The man in charge of the buildings
called our attention to the art treasures, pro
testing that they would be injured or entirely
destroyed if put to the planned use. But Zorin
was set on his scheme. "Recreation homes for
workers are more important than art," he said.
We returned to the Astoria determined to
devote ourselves to the work and to go at it
intensively, as the houses were to be ready for
the First of May. We prepared detailed plans
for dining rooms, sleeping chambers, reading
rooms, theatre and lecture halls, and recreation
places for the workers. As the first and most
necessary step we proposed the organization of a
dining room to feed the workers who were to be
employed in preparing the place for their com
rades. I had learned from my previous expe
rience with the hotels that much valuable time
was lost because of the failure to provide for
those actually employed on such work. Zorin
consented and promised that we were to take
charge within a few days. But a week passed

REST HOMES FOR WORKERS 69

and nothing further was heard about what was
to be a rush job. Some time later Zorin called
up to ask us to accompany him to the island.
On our arrival there we found half-a-dozen Com
missars already in charge, with scores of people
idling about. Zorin reassured us that matters
would arrange themselves and that we should
have an opportunity to organize the work as
planned. However, we soon realized that the
newly fledged officialdom was as hard to cope
with as the old bureaucracy.

Every Commissar had his favourites whom he
managed to list as employed on the job, thereby
entitling them to bread rations and a meal. Thus
almost before any actual workers appeared on
the scene, eighty alleged "technicians" were al
ready in possession of dinner tickets and bread
cards. The men actually mobilized for the
work received hardly anything. The result was
general sabotage. Most of the men sent over to
prepare the rest homes for the workers came from
concentration camps: they were convicts and
military deserters. I had often watched them
at work, and in justice to them it must be said
that they did not overexert themselves. "Why
should we," they would say; "we are fed on
Sovietski soup; dirty dishwater it is, and we

70 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

receive only what is left over from the idlers who
order us about. And who will rest in these
homes? Not we or our brothers in the factories.
Only those who belong to the party or who have
a pull will enjoy this place. Besides, the spring
is near; we are needed at home on the farm.
Why are we kept here?" Indeed, they did not
exert themselves, those stalwart sons of Rus
sia's soil. There was no incentive: they had no
point of contact with the life about them, and
there was no one who could translate to them the
meaning of work in revolutionary Russia. They
were dazed by war, revolution, and hunger-
nothing could rouse them out of their stupor.

Many of the buildings on Kameniy Ostrov
had been taken up for boarding schools and
homes for defectives; some were occupied by old
professors, teachers, and other intellectuals. Since
the Revolution these people lived there un
molested, but now orders came to vacate, to
make room for the rest homes. As almost no
provision had been made to supply the dis
possessed ones with other quarters, they were
practically forced into the streets. Those friendly
with Zinoviev, Gorki, or other influential Com
munists took their troubles to them, but per
sons lacking "pull" found no redress. The

REST HOMES FOR WORKERS 71

scenes of misery which I was compelled to
witness daily exhausted my energies. It was
all unnecessarily cruel, impractical, without any
bearing on the Revolution. Added to this was
the chaos and confusion which prevailed. The
bureaucratic officials seemed to take particular
delight in countermanding each other's orders.
Houses already in the process of renovation,
and on which much work and material were
spent, would suddenly be left unfinished and
some other work begun. Mansions filled with
art treasures were turned into night lodgings,
and dirty iron cots put among antique furniture
and oil paintings — an incongruous, stupid waste
of time and energy. Zorin would frequently
hold consultations by the hour with the staff of
artists and engineers making plans for theatres,
lecture halls, and amusement places, while the
Commissars sabotaged the work. I stood the
painful and ridiculous situation for two weeks,
then gave up the matter in despair.

Early in May the workers' rest homes on
Kameniy Ostrov were opened with much pomp,
music, and speeches. Glowing accounts were
sent broadcast of the marvellous things done for
the workers in Russia. In reality, it was Coney
Island transferred to the environs of Petrograd,

72 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

a gaudy showplace for credulous visitors. From
that time on Zorin's demeanour to me changed.
He became cold, even antagonistic. No doubt
he began to sense the struggle which was going
on within me, and the break wrhich was bound to
come. I did, however, see much of Lisa Zorin,
who had just become a mother. I nursed her
and her baby, glad of the opportunity thus to
express my gratitude for the warm friendship the
Zorins had shown me during my first months in
Russia. I appreciated their sterling honesty
and devotion. Both were so favourably placed
politically that they could be supplied with
everything they wanted, yet Lisa Zorin lacked
the simplest garments for her baby. "Thou
sands of Russian working women have no more,
and why should I?" Lisa would say. When
she was so weak that she could not nurse her
baby, Zorin could not be induced to ask for
special rations. I had to conspire against them
by buying eggs and butter on the market to save
the lives of mother and child. But their fine
quality of character made my inner struggle the
more difficult. Reason urged me to look the
social facts in the face. My personal attachment
to the Communists I had learned to know and
esteem refused to accept the facts. Never

REST HOMES FOR WORKERS 73

mind the evils — I would say to myself — as long
as there are such as the Zorins and the Balaba-
novas, there must be something vital in the
ideas they represent. I held on tenaciously to
the phantom I had myself created.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST OF MAY IN PETROGRAD

IN 1890 the First of May was for the first time
celebrated in America as Labour's interna
tional holiday. May Day became to me a
great, inspiring event. To witness the celebra
tion of the First of May in a free country — it was
something to dream of, to long for, but perhaps
never to be realized. And now, in 1920, the
dream of many years was about to become real
in revolutionary Russia. I could hardly await
the morning of May First. It was a glorious
day, with the warm sun melting away the last
crust of the hard winter. Early in the morning
strains of music greeted me: groups of workers
and soldiers were marching through the streets,
singing revolutionary songs. The city was gaily
decorated: the Uritski Square, facing the Winter
Palace, was a mass of red, the streets near by a
veritable riot of colour. Great crowds were about,
all wending their way to the Field of Mars where
the heroes of the Revolution were buried.

74

THE FIRST OF MAY IN PETROGRAD 75

Though I had an admission card to the re
viewing stand I preferred to remain among the
people, to feel myself a part of the great hosts
that had brought about the world event. This
was their day — the day of their making. Yet-
they seemed peculiarly quiet, oppressively silent.
There was no joy in their singing, no mirth in
their laughter. Mechanically they marched, au
tomatically they responded to the claqueurs on
the reviewing stand shouting "Hurrah" as the
columns passed.

In the evening a pageant was to take place.
Long before the appointed hour the Uritski
Square down to the palace and to the banks of
the Neva was crowded with people gathered to
witness the open-air performance symbolizing
the triumph of the people. The play consisted
of three parts, the first portraying the conditions
which led up to the war and the role of the Ger
man Socialists in it; the second reproduced the
February Revolution, with Kerensky in power;
the last— the October Revolution. It was a
play beautifully set and powerfully acted, a play
vivid, real, fascinating. It was given on the
steps of the former Stock Exchange, facing the
Square. On the highest step sat kings and
queens with their courtiers, attended by soldiery

76 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

in gay uniforms. The scene represents a gala
court affair: the announcement is made that a
monument is to be built in honour of world
capitalism. There is much rejoicing, and a wild
orgy of music and dance ensues. Then from the
depths there emerge the enslaved and toiling
masses, their chains ringing mournfully to the
music above. They are responding to the com
mand to build the monument for their masters:
some are seen carrying hammers and anvils;
others stagger under the weight of huge blocks
of stone and loads of brick. The workers are
toiling in their world of misery and darkness,
lashed to greater effort by the whip of the slave
drivers, while above there is light and joy, and
the masters are feasting. The completion of
the monument is signalled by large yellow disks
hoisted on high amidst the rejoicing of the
world on top.

At this moment a little red flag is seen waving
below, and a small figure is haranguing the peo
ple. Angry fists are raised and then flag and
figure disappear, only to reappear again in dif
ferent parts of the underworld. Again the red
flag waves, now here, now there. The people
slowly gain confidence and presently become
threatening. Indignation and anger grow — the

THE FIRST OF MAY IN PETROGRAD 7?

kings and queens become alarmed. They fly to
the safety of the citadels, and the army prepares
to defend the stronghold of capitalism.

It is August, 1914. The rulers are again feast
ing, and the workers are slaving. The members
of the Second International attend the confab of
the mighty. They remain deaf to the plea of the
workers to save them from the horrors of war.
Then the strains of "God Save the King" an
nounce the arrival of the English army. It is
followed by Russian soldiers with machine guns
and artillery, and a procession of nurses and crip
ples, the tribute to the Moloch of war.

The next act pictures the February Revolu
tion. Red flags appear everywhere, armed
motor cars dash about. The people storm the
Winter Palace and haul down the emblem of
Tsardom. The Kerensky Government assumes
control, and the people are driven back to war.
Then comes the marvellous scene of the October
Revolution, with soldiers and sailors galloping
along the open space before the white marble
building. They dash up the steps into the
palace, there is a brief struggle, and the victors
are hailed by the masses in wild jubilation. The
"Internationale" floats upon the air; it mounts
higher and higher into exultant peals of joy.

78 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Russia is free — the workers, sailors, and soldiers
usher in the new era, the beginning of the world
commune!

Tremendously stirring was the picture. But
the vast mass remained silent. Only a faint
applause was heard from the great throng. I
was dumbfounded. How explain this astonish
ing lack of response? When I spoke to Lisa
Zorin about it she said that the people had
actually lived through the October Revolution,
and that the performance necessarily fell flat by
comparison with the reality of 1917. But my
little Communist neighbour gave a different ver
sion. 'The people had suffered so many dis-1
appointments since October, 1917," she said,
"that the Revolution has lost all meaning to
them. The play had the effect of making their
disappointment more poignant."

CHAPTER IX

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION

THE Ninth Congress of the All-Russian
Communist Party, held in March, 1920,
was characterized by a number of meas
ures which meant a complete turn to the right.
Foremost among them was the militarization of
labour and the establishment of one-man man
agement of industry, as against the collegiate
shop system. Obligatory labour had long been
a law upon the statutes of the Socialist Republic,
but it was carried out, as Trotsky said, "only
in a small private way." Now the law was to__
be made effective in earnest. Russia was to
have a militarized industrial army to fight
economic disorganization, even as the Red Army^
had conquered on the various fronts. Such an
army could be whipped into line only by rigid
discipline, it was claimed. The factory colle
giate system had to make place for military in
dustrial management.

The measure was bitterly fought at the Con-

79

80 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

gress by the Communist minority, but party
discipline prevailed. However, the excitement
did not abate: discussion of the subject con
tinued long after the congress adjourned.
Many of the younger Communists agreed that
the measure indicated a step to the right, but
they defended the decision of their party. "The
collegiate system has proven a failure," they
said. 'The workers will not work voluntarily,
and our industry must be revived if we are to
survive another year."

Jack Reed also held this view. He had just
returned after a futile attempt to reach America
through Latvia, and for days we argued about
the new policy. Jack insisted it was unavoid
able so long as Russia was being attacked and
blockaded. "We have been compelled to mo
bilize an army to fight our external enemies,
why not an army to fight our worst internal
enemy, hunger? We can do it only by putting
our industry on its feet." I pointed out the
danger of the military method and questioned
whether the workers could be expected to be
come efficient or to work intensively under
compulsion. Still, Jack thought mobilization
of labour unavoidable. "It must be tried, any
how," he said.

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION 81

Petrograd at the time was filled with rumours
of strikes. The story made the rounds that
Zinoviev and his staff, while visiting the factories
to explain the new policies, were driven by the
workers from the premises. To learn about the
situation at first hand I decided to visit the
factories. Already during my first months in
Russia I had asked Zorin for permission to see
them. Lisa Zorin had requested me to address
some labour meetings, but I declined because I
felt that it would be presumptuous on my part to
undertake to teach those who had made the
revolution. Besides, I was not quite at home
with the Russian language then. But when I
asked Zorin to let me visit some factories, he was
evasive. After I had become acquainted with
Ravitch I approached her on the subject, and she
willingly consented.

The first works to be visited were the Putilov,
the largest and most important engine and car
manufacturing establishment. Forty thousand
workers had been employed there before the war.
Now I was informed that only 7,000 were at work.
I had heard much of the Putilovtsi: they had
played a heroic part in the revolutionary days
and in the defence of Petrograd against Yuden-
itch.

82 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

At the Putilov office we were cordially re
ceived, shown about the various departments,
and then turned over to a guide. There were
four of us in the party, of whom only two could
speak Russian. I lagged behind to question a
group working at a bench. At first I was met
with the usual suspicion, which I overcame by
telling the men that I was bringing the greetings
of their brothers in America. "And the revolu
tion there?" I was immediately asked. It
seemed to have become a national obsession,
this idea of a near revolution in Europe and
America. Everybody in Russia clung to that
hope. It was hard to rob those misinformed
people of their naive faith. "The American
revolution is not yet," I told them, "but the
Russian Revolution has found an echo among
the proletariat in America." I inquired about
their work, their lives, and their attitude toward
the new decrees. "As if we had not been driven
enough before," complained one of the men.
'Now we are to work under the military
nagaika [whip]. Of course, we will have to
be in the shop or they will punish us as industrial
deserters. But how can they get more work out
of us? We are suffering hunger and cold. We
have no strength to give more." I suggested

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION 83

that the Government was probably compelled
to introduce such methods, and that if Russian
industry were not revived the condition of the
workers would grow even worse. Besides, the
Putilov men were receiving the preferred payok.
"We understand the great misfortune that has
befallen Russia," one of the workers replied,
"but we cannot squeeze more out of ourselves.
Even the two pounds of bread we are getting is
not enough. Look at the bread," he said, hold
ing up a black crust; "can we live on that?
And our children ? If not for our people in the
country or some trading on the market we would
die altogether. Now comes the new measure
which is tearing us away from our people, send
ing us to the other end of Russia while our
brothers from there are going to be dragged here,
away from their soil. It's a crazy measure and
it won't work."

" But what can the Government do in the face
of the food shortage ? " I asked. " Food short
age!" the man exclaimed; "look at the markets.^
Did you see any shortage of food there? Specu-
lation and the new bourgeoisie, that's what's the )
matter. The one-man management is our new
slave driver. First the bourgeoisie sabotaged
us, and now they are again in control. But just

84 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

let them try to boss us ! They'll find out. Just
let them try!''

The men were bitter and resentful. Presently
the guide returned to see what had become of
me. He took great pains to explain that indus
trial conditions in the mill had improved con
siderably since the militarization of labour went
into effect. The men were more content and
many more cars had been renovated and engines
repaired than within an equal period under the
previous management. There were 7,000 pro
ductively employed in the works, he assured me.
I learned, however, that the real figure was less
than 5,000 and that of these only about 2,000
were actual workers. The others were Govern
ment officials and clerks.

After the Putilov works we visited the
Treugolnik, the great rubber factory of Russia.
The place was clean and the machinery in good
order — a well-equipped modern plant. When we
reached the main workroom we were met by the
superintendent, who had been in charge for twenty-
five years. He would show us around himself, he
said. He seemed to take great pride in the fac
tory, as if it were his own. It rather surprised
me that they had managed to keep everything
in such fine shape. The guide explained that it

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION 85

was because nearly the whole of the old staff had
been left in charge. They felt that whatever
might happen they must not let the place go to
ruin. It was certainly very commendable, I
thought, but soon I had occasion to change my
mind. At one of the tables, cutting rubber, was
an old worker with kindly eyes looking out of a
sad, spiritual face. He reminded me of the pilgrim
Lucca in Gorki's " Night Lodgings." Our guide
kept a sharp vigil, but I managed to slip away
while the superintendent was explaining some
machinery to the other members of our group.

"Well, batyushka, how is it with you?" I
greeted the old worker. uBad, matushka" he
replied; "times are very hard for us old people."
I told him how impressed I was to find everything
in such good condition in the shop. 'That is
so," commented the old worker, "but it is be
cause the superintendent and his staff are hoping
from day to day that there may be a change
again, and that the Treugolnik will go back to
its former owners. I know them. I have
worked here long before the German master of
this plant put in the new machinery."

Passing through the various rooms of the fac
tory I saw the women and girls look up in
evident dread. It seemed strange in a country

86 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

where the proletarians were the masters. Ap
parently the machines were not the only things
that had been carefully watched over — the old
discipline, too, had been preserved: the em
ployees thought us Bolshevik inspectors.

The great flour mill of Petrograd, visited next,
looked as if it were in a state of siege, with
armed soldiers everywhere, even inside the work
rooms. The explanation given was that large
quantities of precious flour had been vanishing.
The soldiers watched the millmen as if they were
galley slaves, and the workers naturally resented
such humiliating treatment. They hardly dared
to speak. One young chap, a ffne-looking fellow,
complained to me of the conditions. "We are
here virtual prisoners," he said; "we cannot
make a step without permission. We are kept
hard at work eight hours with only ten minutes
for our kipyatok [boiled water] and we are
searched on leaving the mill." "Is not the
theft of flour the cause of the strict surveillance?"
I asked. "Not at all," replied the boy; "the
Commissars of the mill and the soldiers know
quite well where the flour goes to." I suggested
that the workers might protest against such a
state of affairs. "Protest, to whom?" the boy
exclaimed; "we'd be called speculators and

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION 87

counter-revolutionists and we'd be arrested."
"Has the Revolution given you nothing?" I
asked. "Ah, the Revolution! But that is no
more. Finished," he said bitterly.

The following morning we visited the Laferm
tobacco factory. The place was in full opera
tion. We were conducted through the plant
and the whole process was explained to us, be
ginning with the sorting of the raw material and
ending with the finished cigarettes packed for
sale or shipment. The air in the workrooms
was stifling, nauseating. "The women are used
to this atmosphere," said the guide; "they don't
mind." There were some pregnant women at
work and girls no older than fourteen. They
looked haggard, their chests sunken, black rings
under their eyes. Some of them coughed and
the hectic flush of consumption showed on their
faces. "Is there a recreation room, a place
where they can eat or drink their tea and inhale
a bit of fresh air?" There was no such thing, I
was informed. The women remained at work
eight consecutive hours; they had their tea and
black bread at their benches. The system was
that of piece work, the employees receiving
twenty-five cigarettes daily above their pay
with permission to sell or exchange them.

88 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

I spoke to some of the women. They did not
complain except about being compelled to live
far away from the factory. In most cases it
required more than two hours to go to and from
work. They had asked to be quartered near the
Laferm and they received a promise to that
effect, but nothing more was heard of it.

Life certainly has a way of playing peculiar
pranks. In America I should have scorned the
idea of social welfare work: I should have con
sidered it a cheap palliative. But in Socialist
Russia the sight of pregnant women working in
suffocating tobacco air and saturating them
selves and their unborn with the poison im
pressed me as a fundamental evil. I spoke to
Lisa Zorin to see whether something could not
be done to ameliorate the evil. Lisa claimed that
"piece work'' was the only way to induce the
girls to work. As to rest rooms, the women
themselves had already made a fight for them,
but so far nothing could be done because no
space could be spared in the factory. "But if
even such small improvements had not resulted
from the Revolution," I argued, "what purpose
has it served?" "The workers have achieved
control," Lisa replied; "they are now in power,
and they have more important things to attend

INDUSTRIAL MILITARIZATION 89

to than rest rooms — they have the Revolution]
to defend.'* Lisa Zorin had remained very much
the proletarian, but she reasoned like a nun
dedicated to the service of the Church.

The thought oppressed me that what she
called the "defence of the Revolution" was j
really only the defence of her party in power.,)
At any rate, nothing came of my attempt at
social welfare work.

CHAPTER X

THE BRITISH LABOUR MISSION

I WAS glad to learn that Angelica Balabanova
arrived in Petrograd to prepare quarters for
the British Labour Mission. During my
stay in Moscow I had come to know and ap
preciate the fine spirit of Angelica. She was
very devoted to me and when I fell ill she gave
much time to my care, procured medicine which
could be obtained only in the Kremlin drug
store, and got special sick rations for me. Her
friendship was generous and touching, and she
endeared herself very much to me.

The Narishkin Palace was to be prepared for
the Mission, and Angelica invited me to ac
company her there. I noticed that she looked
more worn and distressed than when I had seen
her in Moscow. Our conversation made it clear
to me that she suffered keenly from the reality
which was so unlike her ideal. But she insisted
that what seemed failure to me was conditioned
in life itself, itself the greatest failure.

90

THE BRITISH LABOUR MISSION 91

Narishkin Palace is situated on the southern
bank of the Neva, almost opposite the Peter-and-
Paul Fortress. The place was prepared for the
expected guests and a number of servants and
cooks installed to minister to their needs. Soon
the Mission arrived — most of them typical work-
ingmen delegates — and with them a staff of
newspaper men and Mrs. Snowden. The most
outstanding figure among them was Bertrand
Russell, who quickly demonstrated his inde
pendence and determination to be free to in
vestigate and learn at first hand.

In honour of the Mission the Bolsheviki
organized a great demonstration on the Uritski
Square. Thousands of people, among them
women and children, came to show their grati
tude to the English labour representatives for
venturing into revolutionary Russia. The cere
mony consisted of the singing of the "Interna
tionale," followed by music and speeches, the
latter translated by Balabanova in masterly
fashion. Then came the military exercises. I
heard Mrs. Snowden say disapprovingly, "What
a display of military!" I could not resist the
temptation of remarking: "Madame, remember
that the big Russian army is largely the making
of your own country. Had England not helped

92 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

to finance the invasions into Russia, the latter
could put its soldiers to useful labour."

The British Mission was entertained royally
with theatres, operas, ballets, and excursions.1
Luxury was heaped upon them while the people!
slaved and went hungry. The Soviet Govern
ment left nothing undone to create a good im
pression and everything of a disturbing nature
was kept from the visitors. Angelica hated the
display and sham, and suffered keenly under the
rigid watch placed upon every movement of the
Mission. "Why should they not see the true
state of Russia? Why should they not learn
how the Russian people live ? " she would lament.
'Yet I am so impractical/' she would correct
herself; "perhaps it is all necessary." At the
end_of two weeks a farewell banquet was given to
the visitors. Angelica insisted that I must
attend. Again there were speeches and toasts,
as is the custom at such functions. The speeches
which seemed to ring most sincere were those of
Balabanova and Madame Ravitch. The latter
asked me to interpret her address, which I did.
She spoke in behalf of the Russian women prole
tarians and praised their fortitude and devotion
to the Revolution. "May the English proleta
rians learn the quality of their heroic Russian

THE BRITISH LABOUR MISSION 93

sisters," concluded Madame Ravitch. Mrs.
Snowden, the erstwhile suffragette, had not a
word in reply. She preserved a "dignified"
aloofness. However, the lady became enlivened
when the speeches were over and she got busy
collecting autographs.

CHAPTER XI

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA

EARLY in May two young men from the
Ukraina arrived in Petrograd. Both had
lived in America for a number of years
and had been active in the Yiddish Labour and
Anarchist movements. One of them had also
been editor of an English weekly Anarchist
paper, The Alarm, published in Chicago. In
1917, at the outbreak of the Revolution, they
left for Russia together with other emigrants.
Arriving in their native country, they joined the
Anarchist activities there which had gained tre
mendous impetus through the Revolution. Their
main field was the Ukraina, In 1918 they aided
in the organization of the Anarchist Eederation
Nabat [Alarm], and began the publication of a
paper by that name. Theoretically, they were
at variance with the Bolsheviki; practically the
Federation Anarchists, even as the Anarchists
throughout Russia, worked with the Bolsheviki

94

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 95

and also fought on every front against the
counter-revolutionary forces.

When the two Ukrainian comrades learned of
our arrival in Russia they repeatedly tried to
reach us, but owing to the political conditions
and the practical impossibility of travelling,
they could not come north. Subsequently
they had been arrested and imprisoned by the
Bolsheviki. Immediately upon their release
they started for Petrograd, travelling illegally.
They knew the dangers confronting them-
arrest and possible shooting for the possession and
use of false documents— but they were willing to
risk anything because they were determined
that we should learn the facts about the pov~
stantsi [revolutionary peasants] movements led
by that extraordinary figure, Nestor Makhno.
They wanted to acquaint us with the history of
the Anarchist activities in Russia and relate
how the iron hand of the Bolsheviki had crushed

them.

During two weeks, in the stillness ot th
Petrograd nights, the two Ukrainian Anarchists
unrolled before us the panorama of the struggle
in the Ukraina. Dispassionately, quietly, and
with almost uncanny detachment the young
men told their story.

96 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Thirteen different governments had " ruled'"'
Ukraina. Each of them had robbed and mur
dered the peasantry, made ghastly pogroms,
and left death and ruin in its way. The Ukrain
ian peasants, a more independent and spirited
race than their northern brothers, had come to
hate all governments and every measure which
threatened their land and freedom. They
banded together and fought back their oppres
sors all through the long years of the revolu
tionary period. The peasants had no theories;
they could not be classed in any political party.
Theirs was an instinctive hatred of tyranny, and
practically the whole of Ukraina soon became a
rebel camp. Into this seething cauldron there
came, in 1917, Nestor Makhno.

Makhno was a Ukrainian born. A natural
rebel, he became interested in Anarchism at an
early age. At seventeen he attempted the life
of a Tsarist spy and was sentenced to death, but
owing to his extreme youth the sentence was
commuted to katorga for life [severe imprison
ment, one third of the term in chains]. The
February Revolution opened the prison doors
for all political prisoners, Makhno among them.
He had then spent ten years in the Butirky
prison, in Moscow. He had but a limited

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 9?

schooling when first arrested, but in prison he had
used his leisure to good advantage. By the
time of his release he had acquired considerable
knowledge of history, political economy, and
literature. Shortly after his liberation Makhno
returned to his native village, Gulyai-Poleh,
where he organized a trade union and the local
soviet. Then he threw himself in the revolu
tionary movement and during all of 1917 he was'
the spiritual teacher and leader of the rebel
peasants, who had risen against the landed pro
prietors.

In 1918, when the Brest Peace opened Ukraina
to German and Austrian occupation, Makhno
organized the rebel peasant bands in defence
against the foreign armies. He fought against
Skoropadski, the Ukrainian Hetman, who was
supported by German bayonets. He waged
successful guerilla warfare against Petlura, Kale-
din, Grigoriev, and Denikin. A conscious Anar
chist, he laboured to give the instinctive rebellion
of the peasantry definite aim and purpose. It
was the Makhno idea that the social revolution
was to be defended against all enemies, against
every counter-revolutionary or reactionary at
tempt from right and left. At the same time
educational and cultural work was carried on

98 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

among the peasants to develop them along
anarchist-communist lines with the aim of es
tablishing free peasant communes.

In February, 1919, Makhno entered into an
agreement with the Red Army. He was to
continue to hold the southern front against
Denikin and to receive from the Bolsheviki the
necessary arms and ammunition. Makhno was
to remain in charge of the povstantsi, now grown
into an army, the latter to have autonomy in its
local organizations, the revolutionary Soviets of
the district, which covered several provinces.
It was agreed that the povstantsi should have the
right to hold conferences, freely discuss their
affairs, and take action upon them. Three such
conferences were held in February, March, and
April. But the Bolsheviki failed to live up to the
agreement. The supplies which had been prom
ised Makhno, and which he needed desperately,
would arrive after long delays or failed to come
altogether. It was charged that this situation
was due to the orders of Trotsky who did not
look favourably upon the independent rebel
army. However it be, Makhno was hampered
at every step, while Denikin was gaining ground
constantly. Presently the Bolsheviki began
to object to the free peasant Soviets, and in

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 99

May, 1919, the Commander-in-Chief of the
southern armies, Kamenev, accompanied by
members of the Kharkov Government, arrived
at the Makhno headquarters to settle the dis
puted matters. In the end the Bolshevik mili
tary representatives demanded that the pov-
stantsi dissolve. The latter refused, charging the
Bolsheviki with a breach of their revolutionary
agreement.

Meanwhile, the Denikin advance was becom
ing more threatening, and Makhno still received
no support from the Bolsheviki. The peasant
army then decided to call a special session of the
Soviet for June isth. Definite plans and meth
ods were to be decided upon to check the grow
ing menace of Denikin. But on June 4th
Trotsky issued an order prohibiting the holding
of the Conference and declaring Makhno an
outlaw. In a public meeting in Kharkov Trot
sky announced that it were better to permit the
Whites to remain in the Ukraina than to suffer
Makhno. The presence of the Whites, he said,
would influence the Ukrainian peasantry in
favour of the Soviet Government, whereas
Makhno and his povstantsi would never make
peace with the Bolsheviki; they would attempt
to possess themselves of some territory and to

ioo MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

practice their ideas, which would be a constant
menace to the Communist Government. It
was practically a declaration of war against
Makhno and his army. Soon the latter found
itself attacked on two sides at once — by the
Bolsheviki and Denikin. The povstantsi were
poorly equipped and lacked the most necessary
supplies for warfare, yet the peasant army for a
considerable time succeeded in holding its own
by the sheer military genius of its leader and the
reckless courage of his devoted rebels.

At the same time the Bolsheviki began a
campaign of denunciation against Makhno and
his povstantsi. The Communist press accused
him of having treacherously opened the south
ern front to Denikin, and branded Makhno's
army a bandit gang and its leader a counter-
revolutionist who must be destroyed at all cost.
But this "counter-revolutionist" fully realized
the Denikin menace to the Revolution. He
gathered new forces and support among the
peasants and in the months of September and
October, 1919, his campaign against Denikin
gave the latter its death blow on the Ukraina.
Makhno captured Denikin's artillery base at
Mariopol, annihilated the rear of the enemy's
army, and succeeded in separating the main

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 101

body from its base of supply. This brilliant
manoeuvre of Makhno and the heroic fighting
of the rebel army again brought about friendly
contact with the Bolsheviki. The ban was
lifted from the povstantsi and the Communist
press now began to eulogize Makhno as a great
military genius and brave defender of the Revo
lution in the Ukraina. But the differences
between Makhno and the Bolsheviki were deep-
rooted: he strove to establish free peasant
communes in the Ukraina, while the Commun
ists were bent on imposing the Moscow rule.
Ultimately a clash was inevitable, and it came
early in January, 1920.

At that period a new enemy was threatening the
Revolution. Grigoriev, formerly of the Tsarist
army, later friend of the Bolsheviki, now turned
against them. Having gained considerable sup
port in the south because of his slogans of free
dom and free Soviets, Grigoriev proposed to
Makhno that they join forces against the
Communist regime. Makhno called a meeting
of the two armies and there publicly accused
Grigoriev of counter-revolution and produced
evidence of numerous pogroms organized by
him against the Jews. Declaring Grigoriev an
enemy of the people and of the Revolution,

102 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Makhno and his staff condemned him and his
aides to death, executing them on the spot.
Part of Grigoriev's army joined Makhno.

Meanwhile, Denikin kept pressing Makhno,
finally forcing him to withdraw from his posi
tion. Not of course without bitter fighting all
along the line of nine hundred versts, the retreat
lasting four months, Makhno marching toward
Galicia. Denikin advanced upon Kharkov, then
farther north, capturing Orel and Kursk, and
finallyreached the gatesof Tula, in the immediate
neighbourhood of Moscow.

The Red Army seemed powerless to check the
advance of Denikin, but meanwhile Makhno
had gathered new forces and attacked Denikin
in the rear. The unexpectedness of this new
turn and the extraordinary military exploits of
Makhno's men in this campaign disorganized
the plans of Denikin, demoralized his army, and
gave the Red Army the opportunity of taking the
offensive against the counter-revolutionary en
emy in the neighbourhood of Tula.

When the Red Army reached Alexandrovsk,
after having finally beaten the Denikin forces,
Trotsky again demanded of Makhno that he
disarm his men and place himself under the
discipline of the Red Army. The povstantsi

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 103

refused, whereupon an organized military cam
paign against the rebels was inaugurated, the
Bolsheviki taking many prisoners and killing
scores of others. Makhno, who managed to
escape the Bolshevik net, was again declared an
outlaw and bandit. Since then Makhno had
been uninterruptedly waging guerilla warfare
against the Bolshevik regime.

The story of the Ukrainian friends, which I
have related here in very condensed form,
sounded as romantic as the exploits of Stenka
Rasin, the famous Cossack rebel immortalized
by Gogol. Romantic and picturesque, but what
bearing did the activities of Makhno and his
men have upon Anarchism, I questioned the two
comrades. Makhno, my informants explained,
was himself an Anarchist seeking to free Ukraina
from all oppression and striving to develop and
organize the peasants' latent anarchistic tend
encies. To this end Makhno had repeatedly
called upon the Anarchists of the Ukraina and
of Russia to aid him. He offered them the
widest opportunity for propagandistic and educa
tional work, supplied them with printing out
fits and meeting places, and gave them the fullest
liberty of action. Whenever Makhno captured
a city, freedom of speech and press for Anarch-

io4 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

ists and Left Social Revolutionists was es
tablished. Makhno often said: "I am a military
man and I have no time for educational work.
But you who are writers and speakers, you can
do that work. Join me and together we shall be
able to prepare the field for a real Anarchist
experiment." But the chief value of the Mak
hno movement lay in the peasants themselves,
my comrades thought. It was a spontaneous,'
elemental movement, the peasants' opposition
to all governments being the result not of
theories but of bitter experience and of instinc
tive love of liberty. They were fertile ground for
Anarchist ideas. For this reason a number of
Anarchists joined Makhno. They were with
him in most of his military campaigns and
energetically carried on Anarchist propaganda
during that time.

I have been told by Zorin and other Commun
ists that Makhno was a Jew-baiter and that his
povstantsi were responsible for numerous brutal
pogroms. My visitors emphatically denied the
charges. Makhno bitterly fought pogroms, they
stated; he had often issued proclamations against
such outrages, and he had even with his own
hand punished some of those guilty of assault
on Jews. Hatred of the Hebrew was of course

A VISIT FROM THE UKRAINA 105

common in the Ukraina; it was not eradicated
even among the Red soldiers. They, too, have
assaulted, robbed, and outraged Jews; yet no one
holds the Bolsheviki responsible for such isolated
instances. The Ukraina is infested with armed
bands who are often mistaken for Makhnovtsi
and who have made pogroms. The Bolsheviki,
aware of this, have exploited the confusion to
discredit Makhno and his followers. However,
the Anarchist of the Ukraina — I was informed—
did not idealize the Makhno movement. They
knew that the povstantsi were not conscious
Anarchists. Their paper Nab at had repeatedly
emphasized this fact. On the other hand, the
Anarchists could not overlook the importance of
popular movement which was instinctively re
bellious, anarchistically inclined, and successful
in driving back the enemies of the Revolution,
which the better organized and equipped Bol
shevik army could not accomplish. For this
reason many Anarchists considered it their duty
to work with Makhno. But the bulk remained
away; they had their larger cultural, educational,
and organizing work to do.

The invading counter-revolutionary forces,
though differing in character and purpose, all
agreed in their relentless persecution of the

106 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Anarchists. The latter were made to suffer,
whatever the new regime. The Bolsheviki were
no better in this regard than Denikin or any
other White element. Anarchists filled Bol
shevik prisons; many had been shot and all legal
Anarchist activities were suppressed. The
Tcheka especially was doing ghastly work,
having resurrected the old Tsarist methods,
including even torture.

My young visitors spoke from experience:
they had repeatedly been in Bolshevik prisons
themselves.

CHAPTER XII

BENEATH THE SURFACE

THE terrible story I had been listening to
for two weeks broke over me like a storm.
Was this the Revolution I had believed
in all my life, yearned for, and strove to interest
others in, or was it a caricature — a hideous
monster that had come to jeer and mock me?
The Communists I had met daily during six
months — self-sacrificing, hard-working men and
women imbued with a high ideal— were such
people capable of the treachery and horrors
charged against them? Zinoviev, Radek, Zorin,
Ravitch, and many others I had learned to
know — could they in the name of an ideal lie,
defame, torture, kill? But, then— had not!
Zorin told me that capital punishment had been
abolished in Russia? Yet I learned shortly after
my arrival that hundreds of people had been
shot on the very eve of the day when the new
decree went into effect, and that as a matter of
fact shooting by the Tcheka had never ceased.

107

108 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

That my friends were not exaggerating when
they spoke of tortures by the Tcheka, I also
learned from other sources. Complaints about
the fearful conditions in Petrograd prisons had
become so numerous that Moscow was apprised
of the situation. A Tcheka inspector came to
investigate. The prisoners being afraid to speak,
immunity was promised them. But no sooner
had the inspector left than one of the inmates, a
young boy, who had been very outspoken about
the brutalities practised by the Tcheka, was
dragged out of his cell and cruelly beaten.

Why did Zorin resort to lies? Surely he must
have known that I would not remain in the dark
very long. And then, was not Lenin also guilty
of the same methods? "Anarchists of ideas
[ideyni] are not in our prisons," he had assured
me. Yet at that very moment numerous An
archists filled the jails of Moscow and Petrograd
and of many other cities in Russia. In May,
1920, scores of them had been arrested in Petro
grad, among them two girls of seventeen and
nineteen years of age. None of the prisoners
were charged with counter-revolutionary activi
ties: they were "Anarchists of ideas," to use
Lenin's expression. Several of them had issued
.a manifesto for the First of May, calling atten-

BENEATH THE SURFACE 109

tion to the appalling conditions in the factories of
the Socialist Republic. The two young girls
who had circulated a handbill against the
"labour book," which had then just gone into
effect, were also arrested.

The labour book was heralded by the Bol-
sheviki as one of the great Communist achieve
ments. It would establish equality and abolish
parasitism, it was claimed. As a matter of
fact, the labour book was somewhat of the
character of the yellow ticket issued to prosti
tutes under the Tsarist regime. It was a record
of every step one made, and without it no step
could be made. It bound its holder to his job,
to the city he lived in, and to the room he oc
cupied. It recorded one's political faith and
party adherence, and the number of times he was
arrested. In short, a yellow ticket. Even some
Communists resented the degrading innovation.
The Anarchists who protested against it were
arrested by the Tcheka. When certain leading
Communists were approached in the matter
they repeated what Lenin had said: "No
Anarchists of ideas are in our prisons."

The aureole was falling from the Communists.
All of them seemed to believe that the end justi
fied the means. I recalled the statements of

no MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Radek at the first anniversary of the Third
International, when he related to his audience
the "marvellous spread of Communism" in
America. "Fifty thousand Communists are in
American prisons," he exclaimed. "Molly
Stimer, a girl of eighteen, and her male com
panions, all Communists, had been deported
from America for their Communist activities."
I thought at the time that Radek was misin
formed. Yet it seemed strange that he did not
make sure of his facts before making such asser
tions. They were dishonest and an insult to
Molly Stimer and her Anarchist comrades,
added to the injustice they had suffered at the
hands of the American plutocracy.

During the past several months I had seen
and heard enough to become somewhat con
versant with the Communist psychology, as
well as with the theories and methods of the
Bolsheviki. I was no longer surprised at the
story of their double-dealing with Makhno, the
brutalities practised by the Tcheka, the lies of
Zorin. I had come to realize that the Com
munists believed implicitly in the Jesuitic for
mula that the end justifies all means. In fact,
they gloried in that formula. Any suggestion
of the value of human life, quality of character,

BENEATH THE SURFACE in

the importance of revolutionary integrity as the
basis of a new social order, was repudiated as
"bourgeois sentimentality," which had no place
in the revolutionary scheme of things. For the
Bolsheviki the end to be achieved was the
Communist State, or the so-called Dictator
ship of the Proletariat. Everything which ad
vanced that end was justifiable and revolution
ary. The Lenins, Radeks, and Zorins were
therefore quite consistent. Obsessed by the
infallibility of their creed, giving of themselves
to the fullest, they could be both heroic and
despicable at the same time. They could work
twenty hours a day, live on herring and tea,
and order the slaughter of innocent men and
women. Occasionally they sought to mask their
killings by pretending a " misunderstanding,"
for doesn't the end justify all means? They
could employ torture and deny the inquisition,
they could lie and defame, and call themselves
idealists. In short, they could make them
selves and others believe that everything was
legitimate and right from the revolutionary
viewpoint; any other policy was weak, senti
mental, or a betrayal of the Revolution.

On a certain occasion, when I passed criticism
on the brutal way delicate women were driven

ii2 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

into the streets to shovel snow, insisting that
even if they had belonged to the bourgeoisie
they were human, and that physical fitness
should be taken into consideration, a Commun
ist said to me: "You should be ashamed of
yourself; you, an old revolutionist, and yet so
sentimental." It was the same attitude that
some Communists assumed toward Angelica
Balabanova, because she was always solicitous
and eager to help wherever possible. In short,
I had come to see that the Bolsheviki were
social puritans who sincerely believed that they
alone were ordained to save mankind. My
relations \\irh the Bolsheviki became more
strained, my attitude toward the Revolution
as I found it more critical.

One thing grew quite clear to me: I could not
affiliate myself with the Soviet Government; I
could not accept any work which would place
me under the control of the Communist machine.
The Commissariat of Education was so thor
oughly dominated by that machine that it was
hopeless to expect anything but routine work.
In fact, unless one was a Communist one could
accomplish almost nothing. I had been eager to
join Lunacharsky, whom I considered one of the
most cultivated and least dogmatic of the

BENEATH THE SURFACE 113

Communists in high position. But I became
convinced that Lunacharsky himself was a
helpless cog in the machine, his best efforts con
stantly curtailed and checked. I had also
learned a great deal about the system of favourit
ism and graft that prevailed in the management
of the schools and the treatment of children.
Some schools were in splendid condition, the
children well fed and well clad, enjoying con
certs, theatricals, dances, and other amuse
ments. But the majority of the schools and
children's homes were squalid, dirty, and neg
lected. Those in charge of the "preferred"
schools had little difficulty in procuring every
thing needed for their charges, often having an
over-supply. But the caretakers of the "com
mon" schools would waste their time and energies
by the week going about from one department
to another, discouraged and faint with endless
waiting before they could obtain the merest
necessities.

At first I ascribed this condition of affairs to
the scarcity of food and materials. I heard it
said often enough that the blockade and inter
vention were responsible. To a large extent
that was true. Had Russia not been so starved,
mismanagement and graft would not have had

ii4 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

such fatal results. But added to the prevalent
scarcity of things was the dominant notion of
Communist propaganda. Even the children
had to serve that end. The well-kept schools
were for show, for the foreign missions and dele
gates who were visiting Russia. Everything
was lavished on these show schools at the cost of
the others.

I remembered how everybody was startled in
Petrograd by an article in the Petrograd Pravda
of May, disclosing appalling conditions in the
schools. A committee of the Young Com
munist organizations investigated some of the
institutions. They found the children dirty,
full of vermin, sleeping on filthy mattresses, fed
on miserable food, punished by being locked
in dark rooms for the night, forced to go without
their suppers, and even beaten. The number
of officials and employees in the schools was
nothing less than criminal. In one school, for
instance, there were 138 of them to 125 children.
In another, 40 to 25 children. All these para
sites were taking the bread from the very mouths
of the unfortunate children.

The Zorins had spoken to me repeatedly of
Lillina, the woman in charge of the Petrograd
Educational Department. She wras a wonderful

BENEATH THE SURFACE 115

Worker, they said, devoted and able. I had
heard her speak on several occasions, but was not
impressed: she looked prim and self-satisfied, a
typical Puritan schoolma'am. But I would not
form an opinion until I had talked with her. At
the publication of the school disclosures I decided
to see Lillina. We conversed over an hour
about the schools in her charge, about education
in general, the problem of defective children and
their treatment. She made light of the abuses
in her schools, claiming that "the young com
rades had exaggerated the defects." At any rate,
she added, the guilty had already been removed
from the schools.

Similarly to many other responsible Com
munists Lillina was consecrated to her work and
gave all her time and energies to it. Naturally,
she could not personally oversee everything;
the show schools being the most important in
her estimation, she devoted most of her time to
them. The other schools were left in the care
of her numerous assistants, whose fitness for
the work was judged largely according to their
political usefulness. Our talk strengthened my
conviction that I could have no part in the work
of the Bolshevik Board of Education.

The Board of Health offered as little oppor-

n6 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

tunity for real service— service that should not
discriminate in favour of show hospitals or the
political views of the patients. This principle of
discrimination prevailed, unfortunately, even in
the sick rooms. Like all Communist institu
tions, the Board of Health was headed by a
political Commissar, Doctor Pervukhin. He
was anxious to secure my assistance, proposing
to put me in charge of factory, dispensary, or
district nursing— a very flattering and tempting
offer, and one that appealed to me strongly. I
had several conferences with Doctor Pervukhin,
but they led to no practical result.

Whenever I visited his department I found
groups of men and women waiting, endlessly
waiting. They were doctors and nurses, mem
bers of the intelligentsia — none of them Com
munists — who were employed in various medical
branches, but their time and energies were being
wasted in the waiting rooms of Doctor Per
vukhin, the political Commissar. They were a
sorry lot, dispirited and dejected, those men and
women, once the flower of Russia. Was I to
join this tragic procession, submit to the political
yoke? Not until I should become convinced
that the yoke was indispensable to the revolu
tionary process would I consent to it. I felt that

BENEATH THE SURFACE 117

I must first secure work of a non-partisan char
acter, work that would enable me to study con
ditions in Russia and get into direct touch with
the people, the workers and peasants. Only
then should I be able to find my way out of the
chaos of doubt and mental anguish that I had
fallen prey to.

CHAPTER XIII

JOINING THE MUSEUM OF THE REVOLUTION

THE Museum of the Revolution is housed
in the Winter Palace, in the suite once
used as the nursery of the Tsar's children.
The entrance to that part of the palace is known
as detsky podyezd. From the windows of the
palace the Tsar must have often looked across
the Neva at the Peter-and-Paul Fortress, the
living tomb of his political enemies. How dif
ferent things were now! The thought of it
kindled my imagination. I was full of the
wonder and the magic of the great change when
I paid my first visit to the Museum.

I found groups of men and women at work in
the various rooms, huddled up in their wraps and
shivering with cold. Their faces were bloated
and bluish, their hands frost-bitten, their whole
appearance shadow-like. What must be the
devotion of these people, I thought, when they
can continue to work under such conditions.
The secretary of the Museum, M. B. Kaplan,

118

JOINING THE MUSEUM 119

received me very cordially and expressed "the
hope that I would join in the work of the Mu
seum." He and another member of the staff
spent considerable time with me on several oc
casions, explaining the plans and purposes of the
Museum. They asked me to join the expedition
which the Museum was then organizing, and
which was to go south to the Ukraina and the
Caucasus. Valuable material of the revolu
tionary period was to be gathered there, they
explained. The idea attracted me. Aside from
my general interest in the Museum and its ef
forts, it meant non-partisan work, free from
Commissars, and an exceptional opportunity
to see and study Russia.

In the course of our acquaintance I learned
that neither Mr. Kaplan nor his friend was
a Communist. But while Mr. Kaplan was
strongly pro-Bolshevik and tried to defend and
explain away everything, the other man was
critical though by no means antagonistic. Dur
ing my stay in Petrograd I saw much of both
men, and I learned from them a great deal about
the Revolution and the methods of the Bolshe-
viki. Kaplan's friend, whose name for obvious
reasons I cannot mention, often spoke of the
utter impossibility of doing creative work within

izo MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

the Communist machine. "The Bolsheviki," he
would say, "always complain about lack of able
help, yet no one— unless a Communist— has
much of a chance." The Museum was among
the least interfered with institutions, and work
there had been progressing well. Then a group
of twenty youths were sent over, young and
inexperienced boys unfamiliar with the work.
Being Communists they were placed in positions
of authority, and friction and confusion resulted.
Everyone felt himself watched and spied upon.
'The Bolsheviki care not about merit," he said;
"their chief concern is a membership card."
He was not enthusiastic about the future of the
Museum, yet believed that the cooperation of the
"Americans" would aid its proper development.
Finally I decided on the Museum as offering
the most suitable work for me, mainly because
that institution was non-partisan. I had hoped
for a more vital share in Russia's life than the
collecting of historical material; still I considered
it valuable and necessary work. When I had
definitely consented to become a member of the
expedition, I visited the Museum daily to help
with the preparations for the long journey.
There was much work. It was no easy matter
to obtain a car, equip it for the arduous trip,

JOINING THE MUSEUM 121

and secure the documents which would give us
access to the material we set out to collect.

While I was busy aiding in these prepara
tions Angelica Balabanova arrived in Petrograd
to meet the Italian Mission. She seemed
transformed. She had longed for her Italian
comrades: they would bring her a breath of her
beloved Italy, of her former life and work there.
Though Russian by birth, training, and revolu
tionary traditions, Angelica had become rooted
in the soil of Italy. Well I understood her and
her sense of strangeness in the country, the
hard soil of which was to bear a new and radiant
life. Angelica would not admit even to herself
that the much hoped-for life was stillborn. But
knowing her as I did, it was not difficult for me
to understand how bitter was her grief over the
hapless and formless thing that had come to
Russia. But now her beloved Italians were com
ing! They would bring with them the warmth
and colour of Italy.

The Italians came and with them new festivi
ties, demonstrations, meetings, and speeches.
How different it all appeared to me from my
memorable first days on Belo-Ostrov. No doubt
the Italians now felt as awed as I did then, as
inspired by the seeming wonder of Russia. Six

122 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

months and the close proximity with the reality
of things quite changed the picture for me. The
spontaneity, the enthusiasm, the vitality had
all gone out of it. Only a pale shadow remained,
a grinning phantom that clutched at my heart.

On the Uritski Square the masses were grow
ing weary with long waiting. They had been
kept there for hours before the Italian Mission
arrived from the Tauride Palace. The cere
monies were just beginning when a woman lean
ing against the platform, wan and pale, began to
weep. I stood close by. " It is easy for them to
talk/' she moaned, "but we've had no food all
day. We received orders to march directly
from our work on pain of losing our bread rations.
Since five this morning I am on my feet. We
were not permitted to go home after work to our
bit of dinner. We had to come here. Seventeen
hours on a piece of bread and some kipyatok
[boiled water]. Do the visitors know anything
about us?" The speeches went on, the "Interna
tionale" was being repeated for the tenth time,
the sailors performed their fancy exercises and
the claqueurs on the reviewing stand were shout
ing hurrahs. I rushed away. I, too, was weep
ing, though my eyes remained dry.

The Italian, like the English, Mission was

JOINING THE MUSEUM 123

quartered in the Narishkin Palace. One day,
on visiting Angelica there, I found her in a per
turbed state of mind. Through one of the
servants she had learned that the ex-princess
Narishkin, former owner of the palace, had
come to beg for the silver ikon which had been
in the family for generations. "Just that ikon/'
she had implored. But the ikon was now state
property, and Balabanova could do nothing
about it. "Just think," Angelica said, "Nar
ishkin, old and desolate, now stands on the
street corner begging, and I live in this palace.
How dreadful is life ! I am no good for it ; I must
get away."

But Angelica was bound by party discipline;
she stayed on in the palace until she returned to
Moscow. I know she did not feel much happier
than the ragged and starving ex-princess begging
on the street corner.

Balabanova, anxious that I should find suit
able work, informed me one day that Petrovsky,
known in America as Doctor Goldfarb, had
arrived in Petrograd. He was Chief of the
Central Military Education Department, which
included Nurses' Training Schools. I had never
met the man in the States, but I had heard of
him as the labour editor of the New York For-

i24 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

ward, the Jewish Socialist daily. He offered me
the position of head instructress in the military
Nurses' Training School, with a view to intro
ducing American methods of nursing, or to
send me with a medical train to the Polish front.
I had proffered my services at the first news of
the Polish attack on Russia: I felt the Revolution
in danger, and I hastened to Zorin to ask to be
assigned as a nurse. He promised to bring the
matter before the proper authorities, but I
heard nothing further about it. I was, there
fore, somewhat surprised at the proposition of
Petrovsky. However, it came too late. What
I had since learned about the situation in the
Ukraina, the Bolshevik methods toward Mak-
hno and the povstantsi movement, the persecu
tion of Anarchists, and the Tcheka activities,
had completely shaken my faith in the Bolshe-
viki as revolutionists. The offer came too late.
But Moscow perhaps thought it unwise to let
me see behind the scenes at the front; Petrovsky
failed to inform me of the Moscow decision. I
felt relieved.

At last we received the glad tidings that the
greatest difficulty had been overcome: a car
for the Museum Expedition had been secured.
It consisted of six compartments and was

JOINING THE MUSEUM 125

newly painted and cleaned. Now began the
work of equipment. Ordinarily it would have
taken another two months, but we had the co
operation of the man at the head of the Mu
seum, Chairman Yatmanov, a Communist. He
was also in charge of all the properties of the
Winter Palace where the Museum is housed.
The largest part of the linen, silver, and glass
ware from the Tsar's storerooms had been re
moved, but there was still much left. Supplied
with an order of the chairman I was shown over
what was once guarded as sacred precincts by
Romanov flunkeys. I found rooms stacked to
the ceiling with rare and beautiful china and
compartments filled with the finest linen. The
basement, running the whole length of the
Winter Palace, was stocked with kitchen uten
sils of every size and variety. Tin plates and
pots would have been more appropriate for the
Expedition, but owing to the ruling that no
institution may draw upon another for anything
it has in its own possession, there was nothing
to do but to choose the simplest obtainable at the
Winter Palace. I went home reflecting upon
the strangeness of life: revolutionists eating out
of the crested service of the Romanovs. But I
felt no elation over it.

CHAPTER XIV

PETROPAVLOVSK AND SCHLUSSELBURG

A SOME time was to pass before we could
depart, I took advantage of the oppor
tunity which presented itself to visit the
historic prisons, the Peter-and-Paul Fortress
and Schliisselburg. I recollected the dread and
awe the very names of these places filled me
with when I first came to Petrograd as a child of
thirteen. In fact, my dread of the Petropav-
lovsk Fortress dated back to a much earlier time.
I think I must have been six years old when a
great shock had come to our family: we learned
that my mother's oldest brother, Yegor, a stu
dent at the University of Petersburg, had been
arrested and was held in the Fortress. My
mother at once set out for the capital. We
children remained at home in fear and trepida
tion lest Mother should not find our uncle among
the living. We spent anxious weeks and months
till finally Mother returned. Great was our re
joicing to hear that she had rescued her brother

126

PETROPAVLOVSK, SCHLUSSELBURG 127

from the living dead. But the memory of the
shock remained with me for a long time.

Seven years later, my family then living in
Petersburg, I happened to be sent on an errand
which took me past the Peter-and-Paul Fortress.
The shock I had received many years before
revived within me with paralyzing force. There
stood the heavy mass of stone, dark and sinister.
I was terrified. The great prison was still to
me a haunted house, causing my heart to pal
pitate with fear whenever I had to pass it.
Years later, when I had begun to draw suste
nance from the lives and heroism of the great
Russian revolutionists, the Peter-and-Paul For
tress became still more hateful. And now I
was about to enter its mysterious walls and see
with my own eyes the place which had been the
living grave of so many of the best sons and
daughters of Russia.

The guide assigned to take us through the
different ravelins had been in the prison for ten
years. He knew every stone in the place. But
the silence told me more than all the information
of the guide. The martyrs who had beaten
their wings against the cold stone, striving up
ward toward the light and air, came to life for
me. The Dekabristi, Tchernishevsky, Dostoy-

128 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

cvsky, Bakunin, Kropotkln, and scores of others
spoke in a thousand-throated voice of their
social idealism and their personal suffering — of
their high hopes and fervent faith in the ultimate
liberation of Russia. Now the fluttering spirits
of the heroic dead may rest in peace: their dream
has come true. But what is this strange writing
on the wall ? 'To-night I am to be shot because
I had once acquired an education." I had al
most lost consciousness of the reality. The
inscription roused me to it. "What is this?"
I asked the guard. "Those are the last words
of an intelligent'' he replied. "After the October
Revolution the intelligentsia filled this prison.
From here they were taken out and shot, or
were loaded on barges never to return. Those
were dreadful days and still more dreadful
nights." So the dream of those who had given
their lives for the liberation of Russia had not
come true, after all. Is there any change in the
world ? Or is it all an eternal recurrence of man's
inhumanity to man?

We reached the strip of enclosure where the
prisoners used to be permitted a half-hour's
recreation. One by one they had to walk up and
down the narrow lane in dead silence, with the
sentries on the wall ready to shoot for the slight-

PETROPAVLOVSK, SCHLUSSELBURG 129

est infraction of the rules. And while the caged
and fettered ones treaded the treeless walk, the
all-powerful Romanovs looked out of the Winter
Palace toward the golden spire topping the For
tress to reassure themselves that their hated
enemies would never again threaten their safety.
But not even Petropavlovsk could save the
Tsars from the slaying hand of Time and Revolu
tion. Indeed, there is change; slow and painful,
but come it does.

In the enclosure we met Angelica Balabanova
and the Italians. We walked about the huge
prison, each absorbed in his own thoughts set in
motion by what he saw. Would Angelica notice
the writing on the wall, I wondered. ;'To-night
I am to be shot because I had once acquired an
education/'

Some time later several of our group made a
trip to Schlusselburg, the even more dreadful
tomb of the political enemies of Tsarism. It is
a journey of several hours by boat up the beauti
ful River Neva. The day was chilly and gray,
as was our mood; just the right state of mind to
visit Schlusselburg. The fortress was strongly
guarded, but our Museum permit secured for us
immediate admission. Schlusselburg is a com
pact mass of stone perched upon a high rock in

130 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

the open sea. For many decades only the vic
tims of court intrigues and royal disfavour were
immured within its impenetrable walls, but
later it became the Golgotha of the political
enemies of the Tsarist regime.

I had heard of Schliisselburg when my parents
first came to Petersburg; but unlike my feeling
toward the Peter-and-Paul Fortress, I had no
personal reaction to the place. It was Russian
revolutionary literature which brought the mean
ing of Schliisselburg home to me. Especially the
story of Volkenstein, one of the two women who
had spent long years in the dreaded place, left an
indelible impression on my mind. Yet nothing
I had read made the place quite so real and terri
fying as when I climbed up the stone steps and
stood before the forbidding gates. As far as
any effect upon the physical condition of the
Peter-and-Paul Fortress was concerned, the
Revolution might never have taken place. The
prison remained intact, ready for immediate
use by the new regime. Not so Schlusselburg.
The wrath of the proletariat struck that house
of the dead almost to the ground.

How cruel and perverse the human mind
which could create a Schlusselburg! Verily, no
savage could be guilty of the fiendish spirit that

PETROPAVLOVSK, SCHLOSSELBURG 131

conceived this appalling tomb. Cells built like
a bag, without doors or windows and with only a
small opening through which the victims were
lowered into their living grave. Other cells were
stone cages to drive the mind to madness and
lacerate the heart of the unfortunates. Yet
men and women endured twenty years in this
terrible place. What fortitude, what power of
endurance, what sublime faith one must have
had to hold out, to emerge from it alive! Here
Netchaev, Lopatin, Morosov, Volkenstein, Fig-
ner, and others of the splendid band spent their
tortured lives. Here is the common grave of
Ulianov, Mishkin, Kalayev, Balmashev, and
many more. The black tablet inscribed with
their names speaks louder than the voices
silenced for ever. Not even the roaring waves
dashing against the rock of Schliisselburg can
drown that accusing voice.

Petropavlovsk and Schliisselburg stand as the
living proof of how futile is the hope of the mighty
to escape the Frankensteins of their own making.

CHAPTER XV

THE TRADE UNIONS

IT WAS the month of June and the time of
our departure was approaching. Petrograd
seemed more beautiful than ever; the white
nights had come — almost broad daylight with
out its glare, the mysterious soothing white
nights of Petrograd. There were rumours of
counter-revolutionary danger and the city was
guarded against attack. Martial law prevail
ing, it was forbidden to be out on the streets
after i A. M., even though it was almost daylight.
Occasionally special permits were obtained by
friends and then we would walk through the
deserted streets or along the banks of the dark
Neva, discussing in whispers the perplexing
situation. I sought for some outstanding feature
in the blurred picture — the Russian Revolution,
a huge flame shooting across the world illumi
nating the black horizon of the disinherited and
oppressed — the Revolution, the new hope, the
great spiritual awakening. And here I was in
the midst of it, yet nowhere could I see the

132

THE TRADE UNIONS 133

promise and fulfilment of the great event. Had
I misunderstood the meaning and nature of
revolution? Perhaps the wrong and the evil I
have seen during those five months were insepa
rable from a revolution. Or was it the political
machine which the Bolsheviki have created— is
that the force which is crushing the Revolution ?
If I had witnessed the birth of the latter I
should now be better able to judge. But ap
parently I arrived at the end— the agonizing end
of a people. It is all so complex, so impenetra
ble, a tupik, a blind alley, as the Russians call it.
Only time and earnest study, aided by sym
pathetic understanding, will show me the way
out. Meanwhile, I must keep up my courage and
-away from Petrograd, out among the people.

Presently the long-awaited moment arrived.
On June 30, 1920, our car was coupled to a slow
train called "Maxim Gorki," and we pulled out
of the Nikolayevski station, bound for Moscow.

In Moscow there were many formalities to go
through with. We thought a few days would
suffice, but we remained two weeks. However,
our stay was interesting. The city was alive
with delegates to the Second Congress of the
Third International; from all parts of the world
the workers had sent their comrades to the prom-

134 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

ised land, revolutionary Russia, the first re
public of the workers. Among the delegates
there were also Anarchists and syndicalists who
believed as firmly as I did six months previously
that the Bolsheviki were the symbol of the Revo
lution. They had responded to the Moscow
call with enthusiasm. Some of them I had met
in Petrograd and now they were eager to hear of
my experiences and learn my opinions. But
what was I to tell them, and would they believe
me if I did ? Would I have believed any adverse
criticism before I came to Russia? Besides, I
felt that my views regarding the Bolsheviki
were still too unformed, too vague, a conglomera
tion of mere impressions. My _old values had
been shattered and so far I have been unable to
replace them. I could therefore not speak on
the fundamental questions, but I did inform my
friends that the Moscow and Petrograd prisons
were crowded with Anarchists and other revo
lutionists, and I advised them not to content
themselves with the official explanations but to
investigate for themselves. I warned them that
they would be surrounded by guides and inter
preters, most of them men of the Tcheka, and that
they would not be able to learn the facts unless
they made a determined, independent effort.

THE TRADE UNIONS 135

There was considerable excitement in Moscow
at the time. The Printers' Union had been
suppressed and its entire managing board sent
to prison. The Union had called a public meet
ing to which members of the British Labour
Mission were invited. There the famous Social
ist Revolutionist Tchernov had unexpectedly
made his appearance. He severely criticised the
Bolshevik regime, received an ovation from the
huge audience of workers, and then vanished as
mysteriously as he had come. The Menshevik
Dan was less successful. He also addressed the
meeting, but he failed to make his escape:
he landed in the Tcheka. The next morning
the Moscow Pravda and the Izvestia denounced
the action of the Printers' Union as counter
revolutionary, and raged about Tchernov having
been permitted to speak. The papers called for
exemplary punishment of the printers who dared
defy the Soviet Government.

The Bakers' Union, a very militant organiza
tion, had also been suppressed, and its manage
ment replaced by Communists. Several months
before, in March, I had attended a convention of
the bakers. The delegates impressed me as a
courageous group who did not fear to criticise
the Bolshevik regime and present the demands

136 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

of the workers. I wondered then that they were
permitted to continue the conference, for they
were outspoken in their opposition to the Com
munists. "The bakers are 'Shkurniki' [skin
ners]/' I was told; "they always instigate strikes,
and only counter-revolutionists can wish to
strike in the workers' Republic." But it seemed
to me that the workers could not follow such
reasoning. They did strike. They even com
mitted a more heinous crime: they refused to
vote for the Communist candidate, electing in
stead a man of their own choice. This action
of the bakers was followed by the arrest of
several of their more active members. Natu
rally the workers resented the arbitrary methods
of the Government.

Later I met some of the bakers and found
them much embittered against the Communist
Party and the Government. I inquired about
the condition of their union, telling them that I
had been informed that the Russian unions were
very powerful and had practical control of the
industrial life of the country. The bakers
laughed. "The trade unions are the lackeys
of the Government," they said; "they have no
independent function, and the workers have no
say in them. The trade unions are doing mere

THE TRADE UNIONS 137

police duty for the Government." That sounded
quite different from the story told by Melnich-
ansky, the chairman of the Moscow Trade
Union Soviet, whom I had met on my first
visit to Moscow.

On that occasion he had shown me about the
trade union headquarters known as the Dom
Soyusov, and explained how the organization
worked. Seven million workers were in the
trade unions, he said; all trades and professions
belonged to it. The workers themselves man
aged the industries and owned them. 'The
building you are in now is also owned by the
unions," he remarked with pride; " formerly it
was the House of the Nobility." The room we
were in had been used for festive assemblies and
the great nobles sat in crested chairs around the
table in the centre. Melnichansky showed me
the secret underground passage hidden by a little
turntable, through which the nobles could
escape in case of danger. They never dreamed
that the workers would some day gather around
the same table and sit in the beautiful hall of
marble columns. The educational and cultural
work done by the trade unions, the chairman
further explained, was of the greatest scope.
"We have our workers' colleges and other cul-

138 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

tural institutions giving courses and lectures
on various subjects. They are all managed by
the workers. The unions own their own means
of recreation, and we have access to all the
theatres/' It was apparent from his explana
tion that the trade unions of Russia had reached
a point far beyond anything known by labour
organizations in Europe and America.

A similar account I had heard from Tsipero-
vitch, the chairman of the Petrograd trade
unions, with whom I had made my first trip to
Moscow. He had also shown me about the
Petrograd Labour Temple, a beautiful and spa
cious building where the Petrograd unions had
their offices. His recital also made it clear that
the workers of Russia had at last come into
their own.

But gradually I began to see the other side
of the medal. I found that like most things in
Russia the trade union picture had a double
facet : one paraded before foreign visitors and
"investigators," the other known by the masses.
The bakers and the printers had recently been
shown the other side. It was a lesson of the
benefits that accrued to the trade unions in the
Socialist Republic.

In March I had attended an election meeting

THE TRADE UNIONS 139

arranged by the workers of one of the large Mos
cow factories. It was the most exciting gather
ing I had witnessed in Russia — the dimly lit hall
in the factory club rooms, the faces of the men
and women worn with privation and suffering,
the intense feeling over the wrong done them,
all impressed me very strongly. Their chosen
representative, an Anarchist, had been refused
his mandate by the Soviet authorities. It was
the third time the workers gathered to re-elect
their delegate to the Moscow Soviet, and every
time they elected the same man. The Com
munist candidate opposing him was Semashko,
the Commissar of the Department of Health. I
had expected to find an educated and cultured
man. But the behaviour and language of the
Commissar at that election meeting would have
put a hod-carrier to sharne. He raved against the
workers for choosing a non-Communist, called
anathema upon their heads, and threatened
them with the Tcheka and the curtailment of
their rations. But he had no effect upon the
audience except to emphasize their opposition to
him, and to arouse antagonism against the party
he represented. The final victory, however,
was with Semashko. The workers' choice was
repudiated by the authorities and later even

140 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

arrested and imprisoned. That was in March.
In May, during the visit of the British Labour
Mission, the factory candidate together with
other political prisoners declared a hunger strike,
which resulted in their liberation.

The story told me by the bakers of their
election experiences had the quality of our own
Wild West during its pioneer days. Tchekists
with loaded guns were in the habit of attending
gatherings of the unions and they made it clear
what would happen if the workers should fail
to elect a Communist. But the bakers, a strong
and militant organization, \vould not be intimi
dated. They declared that no bread would be
baked in Moscow unless they were permitted to
elect their own candidate. That had the de
sired effect. After the meeting the Tchekists
tried to arrest the candidate-elect, but the
bakers surrounded him and saw him safely home.
The next day they sent their ultimatum to the
authorities, demanding recognition of their
choice and threatening to strike in case of refusal.
Thus the bakers triumphed and gained an ad
vantage over their less courageous brothers in
the other labour organizations of minor impor
tance. In starving Russia the work of the bak
ers was as vital as life itself.

CHAPTER XVI

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA

THE Commissariat of Education also in
cluded the Department of Museums. The
Petrograd Museum of the Revolution had
two chairmen; Lunacharsky being one of them,
it was necessary to secure his signature to our
credentials which had already been signed by
Zinoviev, the second chairman of the Museum.
I was commissioned to see Lunacharsky.

I felt rather guilty before him. I left Moscow
in March promising to return within a week to
join him in his work. Now, four months later,
I came to ask his cooperation in an entirely dif
ferent field. I went to the Kremlin determined
to tell Lunacharsky how I felt about the situa
tion in Russia. But I was relieved of the neces
sity by the presence of a number of people in his
office; there was no time to take the matter up.
I could merely inform Lunacharsky of the pur
pose of the expedition and request his aid in
the work. It met with his approval. He signed

141

142 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

our credentials and also supplied me with letters
of introduction and recommendation to facilitate
our efforts in behalf of the Museum.

While our Commission was making the neces
sary preparations for the trip to the Ukraine, I
found time to visit various institutions in Mos
cow and to meet some interesting people. Among
them were certain well-known Left Social Revo
lutionists whom I had met on my previous
visit. I had told them then that I was eager
to visit Maria Spiridonova, of whose condition
I had heard many conflicting stories. But at
that time no meeting could be arranged: it might
have exposed Spiridonova to danger, for she was
living illegally, as a peasant woman. History
indeed repeats itself. Under the Tsar Spiridon
ova, also disguised as a country girl, had shad-
dowed Lukhanovsky, the Governor of Tamboy,
of peasant-flogging fame. Having shot him, she
was arrested, tortured, and later sentenced to
death. The western world became aroused,
and it was due to its protests that the sentence of
Spiridonova was changed to Siberian exile for
life. She spent eleven years there; the February
Revolution brought her freedom and back to
Russia. Maria Spiridonova immediately threw
herself into revolutionary activity. Now, in

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA 143

the Socialist Republic, Maria was again living in
disguise after having escaped from the prison in
the Kremlin.

Arrangements were finally made to enable me
to visit Spiridonova, and I was cautioned to
make sure that I was not followed by Tcheka
men. We agreed with Maria's friends upon a
meeting place and from there we zigzagged a
number of streets till we at last reached the top
floor of a house in the back of a yard. I was led
into a small room containing a bed, small desk,
bookcase, and several chairs. Before the desk,
piled high with letters and papers, sat a frail
little woman, Maria Spiridonova. This, then,
was one of Russia's great martyrs, this woman
who had so unflinchingly suffered the tortures
inflicted upon her by the Tsar's henchmen,
had been told by Zorin and Jack Reed that
Spiridonova had suffered a breakdown, and was
kept in a sanatorium. Her malady, they said,
was acute neurasthenia and hysteria. When
I came face to face with Maria, I immediately
realized that both men had deceived me. I was
no longer surprised at Zorin: much of what he
had told me I gradually discovered to be utterly
false. As to Reed, unfamiliar with the language
and completely under the sway of the new faith,

144 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

he took too much for granted. Thus, on his
return from Moscow he came to inform me that
the story of the shooting of prisoners en masse on
the eve of the abolition of capital punishment was
really true; but, he assured me, it was all the
fault of a certain official of the Tcheka who had
already paid with his life for it. I had oppor
tunity to investigate the matter. I found that
Jack had again been misled. It was not that a
certain man was responsible for the wholesale
killing on that occasion. The act was condi
tioned in the whole system and character of the
Tcheka.

I spent two days with Maria Spiridonova,
listening to her recital of events since October,
1917. She spoke at length about the enthusiasm
and zeal of the masses and the hopes held out
by the Bolsheviki; of their ascendancy to
power and gradual turn to the right. She ex
plained the Brest-Litovsk peace which she con
sidered as the first link in the chain that has
since fettered the Revolution. She dwelt on
the razverstka, the system of forcible requisition,
which was devastating Russia and discrediting
everything the Revolution had been fought for;
she referred to the terrorism practised by the
Bolsheviki against every revolutionary criti-

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA 145

cism, to the new Communist bureaucracy and
inefficiency, and the hopelessness of the whole
situation. It was a crushing indictment against
the Bolsheviki, their theories and methods.

If Spiridonova had really suffered a break
down, as I had been assured, and was hysterical
and mentally unbalanced, she must have had
extraordinary control of herself. She was calm,
self-contained, and clear on every point. She
had the fullest command of her material and
information. On several occasions during her
narrative, when she detected doubt in my face,
she remarked: "I fear you don't quite believe
me. Well, here is what some of the peasants
write me," and she would reach over to a pile of
letters on her desk and read to me passages heart
rending with misery and bitter against the
Bolsheviki. In stilted handwriting, sometimes
almost illegible, the peasants of the Ukraine
and Siberia wrote of the horrors of the rawer stka
and what it had done to them and their land.
"They have taken away everything, even the
last seeds for the next sowing." 'The Com
missars have robbed us of everything." Thus
ran the letters. Frequently peasants wanted
to know whether Spiridonova had gone over to
the Bolsheviki. "If you also forsake us, ma-

146 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

tushka, we have no one to turn to," one peasant
wrote.

The enormity of her accusations challenged
credence. After all, the Bolsheviki were revolu
tionists. How could they be guilty of the
terrible things charged against them? Perhaps
they were not responsible for the situation as it
had developed; they had the whole world against
them. There was the Brest peace, for instance.
When the news of it first reached America I
happened to be in prison. I reflected long and
carefully whether Soviet Russia was justified
in negotiating with German imperialism. But
I could see no way out of the situation. I was
in favour of the Brest peace. Since I came to
Russia I heard conflicting versions of it. Nearly
everyone, excepting the Communists, considered
the Brest agreement as much a betrayal of the
Revolution as the role of the German Socialists
in the war — a betrayal of the spirit of interna
tionalism. The Communists, on the other hand,
were unanimous in defending the peace and
denouncing as counter-revolutionist everybody
who questioned the wisdom and the revolu
tionary justification of that agreement. "We
could do nothing else," argued the Communists.
"Germany had a mighty army, while we had

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA 147

none. Had we refused to sign the Brest treaty
we should have sealed the fate of the Revolu
tion. We realized that Brest meant a compro
mise, but we knew that the workers of Russia and
the rest of the world would understand that we
had been forced to it. Our compromise was
similar to that of workers when they are forced
to accept the conditions of their masters after an
unsuccessful strike."

But Spiridonova was not convinced. ' There
is not one word of truth in the argument ad
vanced by the Bolsheviki," she said. It is
true that Russia had no disciplined army to
meet the German advance, but it had something
infinitely more effective: it had a conscious
revolutionary people who would have fought
back the invaders to the last drop of blood. As
a matter of fact, it was the people who had
checked all the counter-revolutionary military
attempts against Russia. Who else but the
people, the peasants and the workers, made it
impossible for the German and Austrian army
to remain in the Ukraine? Who defeated
Denikin and the other counter-revolutionary
generals? Who triumphed over Koltchak and
Yudenitch? Lenin and Trotsky claim that it
was the Red Army. But the historic truth was

i48 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

that the voluntary military units of the workers
and peasants — the povstantsi — in Siberia as well
as in the south of Russia — had borne the brunt
of the fighting on every front, the Red Army
usually only completing the victories of the
former. Trotsky would have it now that the
Brest treaty had to be accepted, but he himself
had at one time refused to sign the treaty and
Radek, Joffe, and other leading Communists
had also been opposed to it. It is claimed now
that they submitted to the shameful terms be
cause they realized the hopelessness of their
expectation that the German workers would
prevent the Junkers from marching against
revolutionary Russia. But that was not the
true reason. It was the whip of the party
discipline which lashed Trotsky and others into
submission.

'The trouble with the Bolsheviki," continued
Spiridonova, "is that they have no faith in the
masses. They proclaimed themselves a prole
tarian party, but they refused to trust the work
ers.'* It was this lack of faith, Maria em
phasized, which made the Communists bow to
German imperialism. And as concerns the
Revolution itself, it was precisely the Brest
peace which struck it a fatal blow. Aside from

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA 149

the betrayal of Finland, White Russia, Latvia,
and the Ukraine — which were turned over to the
mercy of the German Junkers by the Brest
peace — the peasants saw thousands of their
brothers slain, and had to submit to being robbed
and plundered. The simple peasant mind could
not understand the complete reversal of the
former Bolshevik slogans of "no indemnity and
no annexations." But even the simplest peas
ant could understand that his toil and his blood
were to pay the indemnities imposed by the
Brest conditions. The peasants grew bitter and
antagonistic to the Soviet regime. Disheart
ened and discouraged they turned from the
Revolution. As to the effect of the Brest peace
upon the German workers, how could they
continue in their faith in the Russian Revolution
in view of the fact that the Bolsheviki negotiated
and accepted the peace terms with the German
masters over the heads of the German prole
tariat? The historic fact remains that the
Brest peace was the beginning of the end of the
Russian Revolution. No doubt other factors
contributed to the debacle, but Brest was the
most fatal of them.

Spiridonova asserted that the Left Socialist
Revolutionary elements had warned the Bol-

ISO MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

sheviki against that peace and fought it des
perately. They refused to accept it even after
it had been signed. The presence of Mirbach
in Revolutionary Russia they considered an
outrage against the Revolution, a crying injustice
to the heroic Russian people who had sacrificed
and suffered so much in their struggle against
imperialism and capitalism. Spiridonova's party
decided that Mirbach could not be tolerated
in Russia: Mirbach had to go. Wholesale arrests
and persecutions followed upon the execution
of Mirbach, the Bolsheviki rendering service to
the German Kaiser. They filled the prisons with
the Russian revolutionists.

In the course of our conversation I suggested
that the method of rawerstka was probably
forced upon the Bolsheviki by the refusal of the
peasants to feed the city. In the beginning of
the revolutionary period, Spiridonova explained,
so long as the peasant Soviets existed, the
peasants gave willingly and generously. But
when the Bolshevik Government began to dis
solve these Soviets and arrested 500 peasant
delegates, the peasantry became antagonistic.
Moreover, they daily witnessed the inefficiency
of the Communist regime: they saw their prod
ucts lying at side stations and rotting away,

MARIA SPIRIDONOVA 15*

or in possession of speculators on the market.
Naturally under such conditions they would not
continue to give. The fact that the peasants
had never refused to contribute supplies to the
Red Army proved that other methods than those
used by the Bolsheviki could have been em
ployed. The razverstka served only to widen
the breach between the village and the city.
The Bolsheviki resorted to punitive expeditions
which became the terror of the country. They
left death and ruin wherever they came. The
peasants, at last driven to desperation, began to
rebel against the Communist regime. In various
parts of Russia, in the south, on the Ural, and
in Siberia, peasants' insurrections have taken
place, and everywhere they were being put
down by force of arms and with an iron hand.

Spiridonova did not speak of her own suffer
ings since she had parted ways with the Bol
sheviki. But I learned from others that she had
been arrested twice and imprisoned for a con
siderable length of time. Even when free she
was kept under surveillance, as she had been in
the time of the Tsar. On several occasions she
was tortured by being taken out at night and
informed that she was to be shot— a favoured
Tcheka method. I mentioned the subject to

152 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Spiridonova. She did not deny the facts,
though she was loath to speak of herself. She
was entirely absorbed in the fate of the Revolu
tion and of her beloved peasantry. She gave no
thought to herself, but she was eager to have the
world and the international proletariat learn the
true condition of affairs in Bolshevik Russia.

Of all the opponents of the Bolsheviki I had
met Maria Spiridonova impressed me as one of
the most sincere, well-poised, and convincing.
Her heroic past and her refusal to compromise
her revolutionary ideas under Tsarism as well as
under Bolshevism were sufficient guarantee of
her revolutionarv integrity.

CHAPTER XVII

ANOTHER VISIT TO PETER KROPOTKIN

A FEW days before our Expedition started
for the Ukraine the opportunity pre
sented itself to pay another visit to Peter
Kropotkin. I was delighted at the chance to
see the dear old man under more favourable
conditions than I had seen him in March. I
expected at least that we would not be handi
capped by the presence of newspaper men as we
were on the previous occasion.

On my first visit, in snow-clad March, I
arrived at the Kropotkin cottage late in the
evening. The place looked deserted and deso
late. But now it was summer time. The
country was fresh and fragrant; the garden at
the back of the house, clad in green, smiled
cheerfully, the golden rays of the sun spreading
warmth and light. Peter, who was having his
afternoon nap, could not be seen, but Sofya
Grigorievna, his wife, was there to greet us.
We had brought some provisions given to Sasha

153

154 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Kropotkin for her father, and several baskets of
things sent by an Anarchist group. While we
were unpacking those treasures Peter Alekseye-
vitch surprised us. He seemed a changed man:
the summer had wrought a miracle in him. He
appeared healthier, stronger, more alive than
when I had last seen him. He immediately
took us to the vegetable garden which was almost
entirely Sofya's own work and served as the
main support of the family. Peter was very
proud of it. ''What do you say to this!" he
exclaimed; "all Sofya's labour. And see this
new species of lettuce" — pointing at a huge
head. He looked young; he was almost gay, his
conversation sparkling. His power of observa
tion, his keen sense of humour and generous
humanity were so refreshing, he made one forget
the misery of Russia, one's own conflicts and
doubts, and the cruel reality of life.

After dinner we gathered in Peter's study—
a small room containing an ordinary table for
a desk, a narrow cot, a wash-stand, and shelves
of books. I could not help making a mental
comparison between this simple, cramped study
of Kropotkin and the gorgeous quarters of
Radek and Zinoviev. Peter was interested to
know my impressions since he saw me last. I

ANOTHER VISIT TO KROPOTKIN 155

related to him how confused and harassed I was,
how everything seemed to crumble beneath my
feet. I told him that I had come to doubt
almost everything, even the Revolution itself.
I could not reconcile the ghastly reality with
what the Revolution had meant to me when I
came to Russia. Were the conditions I found
inevitable — the callous indifference to human
life, the terrorism, the waste and agony of it all ?
Of course, I knew revolutions could not be made
with kid gloves. It is a stern necessity in
volving violence and destruction, a difficult and
terrible process. But what I had found in
Russia was utterly unlike revolutionary condi
tions, so fundamentally unlike as to be a carica
ture.

Peter listened attentively; then he said:
"There is no reason whatever to lose faith. I
consider the Russian Revolution even greater
than the French, for it has struck deeper into the
soul of Russia, into the hearts and minds of the
Russian people. Time alone can demonstrate
its full scope and depth. What you see to-day
is only the surface, conditions artificially created
by a governing class. You see a small political
party which by its false theories, blunders, and
inefficiency has demonstrated how revolutions

156 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

must not be made." It was unfortunate —
Kropotkin continued — that so many of the
Anarchists in Russia and the masses outside of
Russia had been carried away by the ultra-
revolutionary pretenses of the Bolsheviki. In
the great upheaval it was forgotten that the
Communists are a political party firmly adher
ing to the idea of a centralized State, and that as
such they were bound to misdirect the course of
the Revolution. The Bolsheviki were the Je
suits of the Socialist Church: they believed in
the Jesuitic motto that the end justifies the
means. Their end being political power, they
hesitate at nothing. The means, however, have
paralysed the energies of the masses and have
terrorized the people. Yet without the people,
without the direct participation of the masses
in the reconstruction of the country, nothing
essential could be accomplished. The Bol
sheviki had been carried to the top by the high
tide of the Revolution. Once in power they
began to stem the tide. They have been trying
to eliminate and suppress the cultural forces of
the country not entirely in agreement with their
ideas and methods. They destroyed the co
operatives which were of utmost importance to
the life of Russia, the great link between the

ANOTHER VISIT TO KROPOTKIN 157

country and the city. They created a bureauc
racy and officialdom which surpasses even that
of the old regime. In the village where he lived,
in little Dmitrov, there were more Bolshevik
officials than ever existed there during the reign
of the Romanovs. All those people were living
off the masses. They were parasites on the
social body, and Dmitrov was only a small ex
ample of what was going on throughout Russia.
It was not the fault of any particular individuals:
rather was it the State they had created, which
discredits every revolutionary ideal, stifles all
initiative, and sets a premium on incompetence
and waste. It should also not be forgotten,
Kropotkin emphasized, that the blockade and
the continuous attacks on the Revolution by the
interventionists had helped to strengthen the
power of the Communist regime. Interven
tion and blockade were bleeding Russia to death,
and were preventing the people from under
standing the real nature of the Bolshevik
regime.

Discussing the activities and role of the
Anarchists in the Revolution, Kropotkin said:
"We Anarchists have talked much of revolu
tions, but few of us have been prepared for the
actual work to be done during the process. I

158 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

have indicated some things in this relation in
my 'Conquest of Bread.' Pouget and Pataud
have also sketched a line of action in their work
on 'How to Accomplish the Social Revolution."'
Kropotkin thought that the Anarchists had not
given sufficient consideration to the funda
mental elements of the social revolution. The
real facts in a revolutionary process do not
consist so much in the actual fighting — that is,
merely the destructive phase necessary to clear
the way for constructive effort. The basic
factor in a revolution is the organization of the
economic life of the country. The Russian
Revolution had proved conclusively that we
must prepare thoroughly for that. Everything
else is of minor importance. He had come to
think that syndicalism was likely to furnish
what Russia most lacked: the channel through
which the industrial and economic reconstruc
tion of the country may flow. He referred
to Anarcho-syndicalism. That and the co
operatives would save other countries- some of
the blunders and suffering Russia was going
through.

I left Dmitrov much comforted by the warmth
and light which the beautiful personality of
Peter Kropotkin radiated; and I was much

ANOTHER VISIT TO KROPOTKIN 159

encouraged by what I had heard from him. I
returned to Moscow to help with the completion
of the preparations for our journey. At last,
on July 15, 1920, our car was coupled to a train
bound for the Ukraine.

CHAPTER XVIII

EN ROUTE

OUR train was about to leave Moscow when
we were surprised by an interesting
visitor — Krasnoschekov, the president of
the Far Eastern Republic, who had recently
arrived in the capital from Siberia. He had
heard of our presence in the city, but for some
reason he could not locate us. Finally he met
Alexander Berkman who invited him to the
Museum car.

In appearance Krasnoschekov had changed
tremendously since his Chicago days, when,
known as Tobinson, he was superintendent of the
Workers' Institute in that city. Then he was
one of the many Russian emigrants on the West
Side, active as organizer and lecturer in the
Socialist movement. Now he looked a different
man; his expression stern, the stamp of author
ity on him, he seemed even to have grown taller.
But at heart he remained the same — simple and
kind, the Tobinson we had known in Chicago.

160

EN ROUTE 161

We had only a short time at our disposal and
our visitor employed it to give us an insight into
the conditions in the Far East and the local form
of government. It consisted of representatives
of various political factions and "even Anarchists
are with us," said Krasnoschekov; "thus, for
instance, Shatov is Minister of Railways. We
are independent in the East and there is free
speech. Come over and try us, you will find a
field for your work." He invited Alexander
Berkman and myself to visit him in Chita and
we assured him that we hoped to avail ourselves
of the invitation at some future time. He
seemed to have brought a different atmosphere
and we were sorry to part so soon.

On the way from Petrograd to Moscow the
Expedition had been busy putting its house in
order. As already mentioned, the car consisted
of six compartments, two of which were con
verted into a dining room and kitchen. They
were of diminutive size, but we managed to make
a presentable dining room of one, and the kitchen
might have made many a housekeeper envy us.
A large Russian samovar and all necessary cop
per and zinc pots and kettles were there, making
a very effective appearance. We were especially
proud of the decorative curtains on our car

162 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

windows. The other compartments were used
for office and sleeping quarters. I shared mine
with our secretary, Miss A. T. Shakol.

Besides Alexander Berkman, appointed by the
Museum as chairman and general manager,
Shakol as secretary, and myself as treasurer and
housekeeper, the Expedition consisted of three
other members, including a young Communist,
a student of the Petrograd University. En route
we mapped out our plan of work, each member of
the Expedition being assigned some particular
branch of it. I was to gather data in the De
partments of Education and Health, the Bureaus
of Social Welfare and Labour Distribution, as
well as in the organization known as Workers'
and Peasants' Inspection. After the day's work
all the members were to meet in the car to con
sider and classify the material collected during
the day.

Our first stop was Kursk. Nothing of im
portance was collected there except a pair of
kandai [iron handcuffs] which had been worn
by a revolutionist in Schliisselburg. It was
donated to us by a chance passer-by who,
noticing the inscription on our car, " Extraor
dinary Commission of the Museum of the
Revolution/' became interested and called to

EN ROUTE 163

pay us a visit. He proved to be an intellectual,
a Tolstoian, the manager of a children's colony.
He succeeded in maintaining the latter by giving
the Soviet Government a certain amount of
labour required of him: three days a week he
taught in the Soviet schools of Kursk. The
rest of his time he devoted to his little colony, or
the " Children's Commune," as he affectionately
called it. With the help of the children and some
adults they raised the vegetables necessary for
the support of the colony and made all the re
pairs of the place. He stated that he had not
been directly interfered with by the Govern
ment, but that his work was considerably handi
capped by discrimination against him as a
pacifist and Tolstoian. He feared that because
of it his place could not be continued much
longer. There was no trading of any sort in
Kursk at the time, and one had to depend for
supplies on the local authorities. But dis
crimination and antagonism manifested them
selves against independent initiative and effort.
The Tolstoian, however, was determined to make
a fight, spiritually speaking, for the life of his
colony. He was planning to go to the centre,
to Moscow, where he hoped to get support in
favour of his commune.

164 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

The personality of the man, his eagerness to
make himself useful, did not correspond with the
information I had received from Communists
about the intelligentsia, their indifference and
unwillingness to help revolutionary Russia. I
broached the subject to our visitor. He could
only speak of the professional men and women of
Kursk, his native city, but he assured us that he
found most of them, and especially the teachers,
eager to cooperate and even self-sacrificing. But
they were the most neglected class, living in
semi-starvation all the time. Like himself, they
were exposed to general antagonism, even on the
part of the children whose minds had been
poisoned by agitation against the intelligentsia.

Kursk is a large industrial centre and I was
interested in the fate of the workers there. We
learned from our visitor that there had been
repeated skirmishes between the workers and
the Soviet authorities. A short time before our
arrival a strike had broken out and soldiers
were sent to quell it. The usual arrests followed
and many workers were still in the Tcheka.
This state of affairs, the Tolstoian thought, was
due to general Communist incompetence rather
than to any other cause. People were placed
in responsible positions not because of their fit-

EN ROUTE 165

ness but owing to their party membership.
Political usefulness was the first consideration
and it naturally resulted in general abuse of
power and confusion. The Communist dogma
that the end justifies all means was also doing
much harm. It had thrown the door wide open
to the worst human passions, and discredited the
ideals of the Revolution. The Tolstoian spoke
sadly, as one speaks of a hope cherished and
loved, and lost.

The next morning our visitor donated to our
collection the kandali he had worn for many
years in prison. He hoped that we might re
turn by way of Kursk so that we could pay a
visit to some Tolstoian communes in the environs
of the city. Not far from Yasnaya Polyana
there lived an old peasant friend of Tolstoi, he
told us. He had much valuable material that
he might contribute to the Museum. Our
visitor remained to the moment of our departure;
he was starved for intellectual companionship
and was loath to see us go.

CHAPTER XIX

IN KHARKOV

ARRIVING in Kharkov, I visited the An
archist book store, the address of which
I had secured in Moscow. There I met
many friends whom I had known in America.
Among them were Joseph and Leah Goodman,
formerly from Detroit; Fanny Baron, from
Chicago, and Sam Fleshin who had worked in
the Mother Earth office in New York, in 1917,
before he left for Russia. With thousands of
other exiles they had all hastened to their native
country at the first news of the Revolution,
and they had been in the thick of it ever since.
They would have much to tell me, I thought;
they might help me to solve some of the prob
lems that were perplexing me.

Kharkov lay several miles away from the rail
road station, and it would have therefore been
impractical to continue living in the car during
our stay in the city. The Museum credentials
would secure quarters for us, but several mem-

166

IN KHARKOV 167

bers of the Expedition preferred to stay with
their American friends. Through the help of
one of our comrades, who was commandant of
an apartment house, I secured a room.

It had been quite warm in Moscow, but
Kharkov proved a veritable furnace, reminding
me of New York in July. Sanitary and plumb
ing arrangements had been neglected or de
stroyed, and water had to be carried from a place
several blocks distant up three flights of stairs.
Still it was a comfort to have a private room.

The city was alive. The streets were full of
people and they looked better fed and dressed
than the population of Petrograd and Moscow.
The women were handsomer than in northern
Russia; the men of a finer type. It was rather
odd to see beautiful women, wearing evening
gowns in the daytime, walk about barefoot or
clad in wooden sandals without stockings. The
coloured kerchiefs most of them had on lent life
and colour to the streets, giving them a cheerful
appearance which contrasted favourably with
the gray tones of Petrograd.

My first official visit was paid to the Depart
ment of Education. I found a long line of people
waiting admission, but the Museum credentials
immediately opened the doors, the chairman

168 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

receiving me most cordially. He listened at
tentively to my explanation of the purposes of
the Expedition and promised to give me an op
portunity to collect all the available material in
his department, including the newly prepared
charts of its work. On the chairman's desk I
noticed a copy of such a chart, looking like a
futurist picture, all lined and dotted with red,
blue, and purple. Noticing my puzzled expres
sion the chairman explained that the red in
dicated the various phases of the educational
system, the other colours representing literature,
drama, music, and the plastic arts. Each de
partment was subdivided into bureaus embracing
every branch of the educational and cultural work
of the Socialist Republic.

Concerning the system of education the chair
man stated that from three to eight years of age
the child attended the kindergarten or children's
home. War orphans from the south, children of
Red Army soldiers and of proletarians in general
received preference. If vacancies remained,
children of the bourgeoisie were also accepted.
From eight to thirteen the children attended the
intermediary schools where they received elemen
tary education which inculcates the general idea
of the political and economic structure of R.S.F.

IN KHARKOV 169

S.R. Modern methods of instruction by means
of technical apparatus, so far as the latter could
be secured, had been introduced. The children
were taught processes of production as well as
natural sciences. The period from twelve to
seventeen embraced vocational training. There
were also higher institutions of learning for young
people who showed special ability and inclina
tion. Besides this, summer schools and colonies
had been established where instruction was given
in the open. All children belonging to the
Soviet Republic were fed, clothed, and housed at
the expense of the Government. The scheme of
education also embraced workers' colleges and
evening courses for adults of both sexes. Here
also everything was supplied to the pupils free,
even special rations. For further particulars
the chairman referred me to the literature of his
department and advised me to study the plan in
operation. The educational work was much
handicapped by the blockade and counter
revolutionary attempts; else Russia would dem
onstrate to the world what the Socialist Re
public could do in the way of popular enlighten
ment. They lacked even the most elemental
necessaries, such as paper, pencils, and books.
In the winter most of the schools had to be closed

1 70 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

for lack of fuel. The cruelty and infamy of the
blockade was nowhere more apparent and crying
than in its effect upon the sick and the children.
"It is the blackest crime of the century," the
chairman concluded. It was agreed that I
return within a week to receive the material for
our collection. In the Social Welfare Department
I also found a very competent man in charge. He
became much interested in the work of the Expedi
tion and promised to collect the necessary ma
terial for us, though he could not offer very much
because his department had but recently been
organized. Its work was to look after the
disabled and sick proletarians and those of old
age exempt from labour. They were given cer
tain rations in food and clothing; in case they
were employed they received also a certain
amount of money, about half of their earnings.
Besides that the Department was supporting
living quarters and dining rooms for its charges.
In the corridor leading to the various offices of
the Department there were lines of emaciated
and crippled figures, men and women, waiting
for their turn to receive aid. They looked like
war veterans awaiting their pittance in the form
of rations; they reminded me of the decrepit
unemployed standing in line in the Salvation

IN KHARKOV 171

Army quarters in America. One woman in
particular attracted my attention. She was
angry and excited and she complained loudly.
Her husband had been dead two days and she
was trying to obtain a permit for a coffin. She
had been in line ever since but could procure no
order. "What am I to do?" she wailed; "I can
not carry him on my own back or bury him with
out a coffin, and I cannot keep him in my room
much longer in this heat." The woman's lament
remained unanswered for everyone was absorbed
in his own troubles. Sick and disabled workers
are thrown everywhere on the scrap pile — I
thought — but in Russia an effort is being made to
prevent such cruelty. Yet judging from what I
saw in Kharkov I felt that not much was being
accomplished. It was a most depressing picture,
that long waiting line. I felt as if it was adding
insult to injury.

I visited a house where the social derelicts
lived. It was fairly well kept, but breathing the
spirit of cold institutionalism. It was, of course,
better than sleeping in the streets or lying all
night in the doorways, as the sick and poor are
often compelled to do in capitalist countries, in
America, for instance. Still it seemed incongru
ous that something more cheerful and inviting

172 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

could not be devised in Soviet Russia for those
who had sacrificed their health and had given
their labour to the common good. But ap
parently it was the best that the Social Welfare
Department could do in the present condition
of Russia.

In the evening our American friends visited
us. Each of them had a rich experience of strug
gle, suffering, and persecution and I was sur
prised to learn that most of them had also been
imprisoned by the Bolsheviki. They had en
dured much for the sake of their ideas and had
been hounded by every government of Ukraina,
there having been fourteen political changes in
some parts of the south during the last two years.
The Communists were no different: they also
persecuted the Anarchists as well as other revo
lutionists of the Left. Still the Anarchists
continued their work. Their faith in the Revo
lution, in spite of all they endured, and even in
the face of the worst reaction, was truly sublime.
They agreed that the possibilities of the masses
during the first months after the October Revo
lution were very great, but expressed the opin
ion that revolutionary development had been
checked, and gradually entirely paralysed, by
.the deadening effect of the Communist State.

IN KHARKOV 173

In the Ukraina, they explained, the situation
differed from that of Russia, because the
peasants lived in comparatively better material
conditions. They had also retained greater
independence and more of a rebellious spirit.
For these reasons the Bolsheviki had failed to
subdue the south.

Our visitors spoke of Makhno as a heroic
popular figure, and related his daring exploits
and the legends the peasants had woven about
his personality. There was considerable dif
ference of opinion, however, among the Anar
chists concerning the significance of the Makhno
movement. Some regarded it as expressive of
Anarchism and believed that the Anarchists
should devote all their energies to it. Others
held that the povstantsi represented the native
rebellious spirit of the southern peasants, but
that their movement was not Anarchism, though
anarchistically tinged. They were not in favour
of limiting themselves to that movement; they
believed their work should be of a more embrac
ing and universal character. Several of our
friends took an entirely different position,
denying to the Makhno movement any anar
chistic meaning whatever.
Most enthusiastic about Makhno and em-

174 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

phatic about the Anarchist value of that move
ment was Joseph, known as the "Emigrant"-
the very last man one would have expected to
wax warm over a military organization. Joseph
was as mild and gentle as a girl. In America
he had participated in the Anarchist and Labour
movements in a quiet and unassuming manner,
and very few knew the true worth of the man.
Since his return to Russia he had been in the
thick of the struggle. He had spent much time
with Makhno and had learned to love and ad
mire him for his revolutionary devotion and
courage. Joseph related an interesting expe
rience of his first visit to the peasant leader.
When he arrived the povstantsi for some reason
conceived the notion that he had come to harm
their chief. One of Makhno's closest friends
claimed that Joseph, being a Jew, must also be an
emissary of the Bolsheviki sent to kill Makhno.
When he saw how attached Makhno became to
Joseph, he decided to kill "the Jew." Fortu
nately he first warned his leader, whereupon
Makhno called his men together and addressed
them somewhat in this manner: "Joseph is a
Jew and an idealist; he is an Anarchist. I con
sider him my comrade and friend and I shall hold
everyone responsible for his safety." Idolized

IN KHARKOV 175

by his army, Makhno's word was enough:
Joseph became the trusted friend of the povstan-
tsi. They believed in him because their batka
[father] had faith in him, and Joseph in return
became deeply devoted to them. Now he in
sisted that he must return to the rebel camp:
they were heroic people, simple, brave, and
devoted to the cause of liberty. He was plan
ning to join Makhno again. Yet I could not free
myself of the feeling that if Joseph went back
I should never see him alive any more. He
seemed to me like one of those characters in
Zola's "Germinal" who loves every living thing
and yet is able to resort to dynamite for the sake
of the striking miners.

I expressed the view to my friends that, im
portant as the Makhno movement might be, it
was of a purely military nature and could not,
therefore, be expressive of the Anarchist spirit.
I was sorry to see Joseph return to the Makhno.
camp, for his work for the Anarchist movement
in Russia could be of much greater value. But
he was determined, and I felt that it was Joseph's
despair at the reactionary tendencies of the
Bolsheviki which drove him, as it did so many
others of his comrades, away from the Com
munists and into the ranks of Makhno.

176 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

During our stay in Kharkov I also visited the
Department of Labour Distribution, which had
come into existence since the milirarization of
labour. According to the Bolsheviki it became
necessary then to return the workers from the
villages to which they had streamed from the
starving cities. They had to be registered and
classified according to trades and distributed to
points where their services were most needed.
In the carrying out of this plan many people
were daily rounded up on the streets and in the
market place. Together with the large num
bers arrested as speculators or for possession of
Tsarist money, they were put on the list of the
Labour Distribution Department. Some were
sent to the Donetz Basin, while the weaker ones
went on to concentration camps. The Com
munists justified this system and method as
necessary during a revolutionary period in order
to build up the industries. Everybody must
work in Russia, they said, or be forced to work.
They claimed that the industrial output had
increased since the introduction of the compul
sory labour law.

I had occasion to discuss these matters with
many Communists and I doubted the efficacy
of the new policy.

IN KHARKOV 177

One evening a woman called at my room and
introduced herself as the former owner of the
apartment. Since all the houses had been na
tionalized she was allowed to keep three rooms,
the rest of her apartment having been put in
charge of the House Bureau. Her family con
sisted of eight members, including her parents
and a married daughter with her family. It
was almost impossible to crowd all into three
rooms, especially considering the terrific heat of
the Kharkov summer; yet somehow they had
managed. But two weeks prior to our arrival
in Kharkov Zinoviev visited the city. At a
public meeting he declared that the bourgeoisie
of the city looked too well fed and dressed.
"It proves," he said, "that the comrades and
especially the Tcheka are neglecting their duty/'
No sooner had Zinoviev departed than wholesale
arrests and night raids began. Confiscation
became the order of the day. Her apartment,
the woman related, had also been visited and
most of her effects taken away. But worst of all
was that the Tcheka ordered her to vacate one
of the rooms, and now the whole family was
crowded into two small rooms. She was much
worried lest a member of the Tcheka or a Red
Army man be assigned to the vacant room.

178 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

"We felt much relieved/' she said, "when we
were informed that someone from America was
to occupy this room. We wish you would re
main here for a long time."

Till then I had not come in personal contact
with the members of the expropriated bourgeoisie
who had actually been made to suffer by the
Revolution. The few middle-class families I
had met lived well, which was a source of sur
prise to me. Thus in Petrograd a certain chem
ist I had become acquainted with in Shatov's
house lived in a very expensive way. The
Soviet authorities permitted him to operate his
factory, and he supplied the Government with
chemicals at a cost much less than the Govern
ment could manufacture them at. He paid his
workers comparatively high wages and provided
them with rations. On a certain occasion I
was invited to dinner by the chemist's family.
I found them living in a luxurious apartment
containing many valuable objects and art
treasures. My hostess, the chemist's wife, was
expensively gowned and wore a costly necklace.
Dinner consisted of several courses and was
served in an extravagant manner with ex
quisite damask linen in abundance. It must
have cost several hundred thousand rubles,

IN KHARKOV 179

which in 1920 was a small fortune in Russia.
The astonishing thing to me was that almost
everybody in Petrograd knew the chemist and
was familiar with his mode of life. But I was
informed that he was needed by the Soviet
Government and that he was therefore permitted
to live as he pleased. Once I expressed my sur
prise to him that the Bolsheviki had not confis
cated his wealth. He assured me that he was not
the only one of the bourgeoisie who had retained
his former condition. "The bourgeoisie is by no
means dead/' he said; "it has only been chloro
formed for a while, so to speak, for the painful
operation. But it is already recovering from the
effect of the anesthetic and soon it will have recu
perated entirely. It only needs a little more time.''
The woman who visited me in the Kharkov room
had not managed so well as the Petrograd chem
ist. She was a part of the wreckage left by the
revolutionary storm that had swept over Russia.
During my stay in the Ukrainian capital I met
some interesting people of the professional
classes, among them an engineer who had just
returned from the Donetz Basin and a woman
employed in a Soviet Bureau. Both were cul
tured persons and keenly alive to the fate of
Russia. We discussed the Zinoviev visit. They

i8o MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
corroborated the story told me before. Zin-
oviev had upbraided his comrades for their
laxity toward the bourgeoisie and criticized
them for not suppressing trade. Immediately
upon Zinoviev's departure the Tcheka began
indiscriminate raids, the members of the bour
geoisie losing on that occasion almost the last
things they possessed. The most tragic part of
it, according to the engineer, was that the work
ers did not benefit by such raids. No one knew
what became of the things confiscated— they
just disappeared. Both the engineer and the
woman Soviet employee spoke with much con
cern about the general disintegration of ideas.
The Russians once believed, the woman said,
that hovels and palaces were equally wrong
and should be abolished. It never occurred to
them that the purpose of a revolution is merely
to cause a transfer of possessions— to put the
rich into the hovels and the poor into the palaces.
It was not true that the workers have gotten
into the palaces. They were only made to be
lieve that that is the function of a revolution.
In reality, the masses remained where they had
been before. But now they were not alone
there: they were in the company of the classes
they meant to destroy.

IN KHARKOV 181

The civil engineer had been sent by the Soviet
Government to the Donetz Basin to build homes
for the workers, and I was glad of the opportun
ity to learn from him about the conditions there.
The Communist press was publishing glowing
accounts about the intensive coal production of
the Basin, and official calculations claimed that
the country would be provided with sufficient
coal for the approaching winter. In reality, the
Donetz mines were in a most deplorable state,
the engineer informed me. The miners were
herded like cattle. They received abominable
rations, were almost barefoot, and were forced
to work standing in water up to their ankles.
As a result of such conditions very little coal
was being produced. "I was one of a committee
ordered to investigate the situation and report
our findings," said the engineer. "Our report is
far from favourable. We know that it is danger
ous to relate the facts as we found them: it may
land us in the Tcheka. But we decided that
Moscow must face the facts. The system of
political Commissars, general Bolshevik inef
ficiency, and the paralysing effect of the State
machinery have made our constructive work in
the Basin almost impossible. It was a dismal
failure."

i82 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Could such a condition of affairs be avoided
in a revolutionary period and in a country so
little developed industrially as Russia ? I ques
tioned. The Revolution was being attacked
by the bourgeoisie within and without; there was
compelling need of defence and no energies
remained for constructive work. The engi
neer scorned my viewpoint. The Russian bour
geoisie was weak and could offer practically no
resistance, he claimed. It was numerically
insignificant and it suffered from a sick con
science. There was neither need nor justi
fication for Bolshevik terrorism and it was
mainly the latter that paralysed the constructive
efforts. Middle-class intellectuals had been
active for many years in the liberal and revolu
tionary movements of Russia, and thus the
members of the bourgeoisie had become closer
to the masses. When the great day arrived the
bourgeoisie, caught unawares, preferred to give
up rather than to put up a fight. It was stun
ned by the Revolution more than any other class
in Russia. It was quite unprepared and has
not gotten its bearings even to this day. It was
not true, as the Bolsheviki claimed, that the
Russian bourgeoisie was an active menace to the
Revolution.

IN KHARKOV 183

I had been advised to see the Chief of the De
partment of Workers' and Peasants' Inspection,
the position being held by a woman, formerly an
officer of the Tcheka, reputed to be very severe,
even cruel, but efficient. She could supply me
with much valuable material, I was told, and
give me entrance to the prisons and concentra
tion camps. On my visiting the Workers' and
Peasants' Inspection offices I found the lady in
charge not at all cordial at first. She ignored
my credentials, apparently not impressed by
Zinoviev's signature. Presently a man stepped
out from an inner office. He proved to be
Dibenko, a high Red Army officer, and he in
formed me that he had heard of me from Alexan
dra Kollontay, whom he referred to as his wife.
He promised that I should get all available ma
terial and asked me to return later in the day.
When I called again I found the lady much more
amiable and willing to give me information about
the activities of her department. It appeared
that the latter had been organized to fight grow
ing sabotage and graft. It was part of the duties
of the Tcheka, but it was found necessary to
create the new department for the inspection
and correction of abuses. "It is the tribunal
to which cases may be appealed," said the

i84 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

woman; "just now, for instance, we are in
vestigating complaints of prisoners who had
been wrongly convicted or received excessive
sentences/' She promised to secure for us per
mission to inspect the penal institutions and
several days later several members of the Expedi
tion were given the opportunity.

First we visited the main concentration camp
of Kharkov. We found a number of prisoners
working in the yard, digging a new sewer. It
was certainly needed, for the whole place was
filled with nauseating smells. The prison build
ing was divided into a number of rooms, all of
them overcrowded. One of the compartments
was called the "speculators' apartment," though
almost all its inmates protested against being
thus classed. They looked poor and starved,
everyone of them anxious to tell us his tale of
woe, apparently under the impression that we
were official investigators. In one of the corri
dors we found several Communists charged with
sabotage. Evidently the Soviet Government
did not discriminate in favour of its own people.

There were in the camp White officers taken
prisoners at the Polish front, and scores of
peasant men and women held on various charges.
They presented a pitiful sight, sitting there on

IN KHARKOV 185

the floor for lack of benches, a pathetic lot, be
wildered and unable to grasp the combination
of events which had caught them in the net.

More than one thousand able-bodied men were
locked up in the concentration camp, of no serv
ice to the community and requiring numerous
officials to guard and attend them. And yet
Russia was badly in need of labour energy. It
seemed to me an impractical waste.

Later we visited the prison. At the gates an
angry mob was gesticulating and shouting. I
learned that the weekly parcels brought by rela
tives of the inmates had that morning been re
fused acceptance by the prison authorities.
Some of the people had come for miles and
had spent their last ruble for food for their ar
rested husbands and brothers. They were fran
tic. Our escort, the woman in charge of the
Bureau, promised to investigate the matter.
We made the rounds of the big prison — a depress
ing sight of human misery and despair. In the
solitary were those condemned to death. For
days their look haunted me — their eyes full of
terror at the torturing uncertainty, fearing to be
called at any moment to face death.

We had been asked by our Kharkov friends to
find a certain young woman in the prison. Try-

i86 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
ing to avoid arousing attention we sought her
with our eyes in various parts of the institution,
till we saw someone answering her description.
She was an Anarchist, held as a political. The
prison conditions were bad, she told us. It had
required a protracted hunger strike to compel
the authorities to treat the politicals more de
cently and to keep the doors of those condemned
to death open during the day, so that they could
receive a little cheer and comfort from the other
prisoners. She told of many unjustly arrested
and pointed out an old stupid-looking peasant
woman locked up in solitary as a Makhno spy,
a charge obviously due to a misunderstanding.

The prison regime was very rigid. Among
other things, it was forbidden the prisoners to
climb up on the windows or to look out into the
yard. The story was related to us of a prisoner
being shot for once disobeying that rule. He
had heard some noise in the street below and,
curious to know what was going on, he climbed
up on the window sill of his cell. The sentry
in the yard gave no warning. He fired, severely
wounding the man. Many similar stories of
severity and abuse we heard from the prisoners.
On our way to town I expressed surprise at the
conditions that were being tolerated in the

IN KHARKOV 187

prisons. I remarked to our guide that it would
cause a serious scandal if the western world were
to learn under what conditions prisoners live and
how they are treated in Socialist Russia. Noth
ing could justify such brutality, I thought. But
the chairman of the Workers' and Peasants'
Inspection remained unmoved. "We are living
in a revolutionary period," she replied; "these
matters cannot be helped." But she promised
to investigate some cases of extreme injustice
which we had pointed out to her. I was not
convinced that the Revolution was responsible
for the existing evils. If the Revolution really
had to support so much brutality and crime,
what was the purpose of the Revolution, after
all?

At the end of our first week in Kharkov I re
turned to the Department of Education where I
had been promised material. To my surprise
I found that nothing had been prepared. I was
informed that the chairman was absent, and
again assured that the promised data would be
collected and ready before our departure. I was
then referred to the man in charge of a certain
school experimental department. The chair
man had told me that some interesting educa
tional methods were being developed, but I

i88 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

found the manager unintelligent and dull. He
could tell me nothing of the new methods, but
he was willing to send for one of the instructors
to explain things to me. A messenger was
dispatched, but he soon returned with the
information that the teacher was busy demon
strating to his class and could not come. The
manager flew into a rage. "He must come,"
he shouted; "the bourgeoisie are sabotaging like
the other damnable intelligentsia. They ought
all to be shot. We can do very well without
them." He was one of the type of narrow-
minded fanatical and persecuting Communists
who did more harm to the Revolution than any
counter-revolutionary.

During our stay in Kharkov we also had time
to visit some factories. In a plough manufac
turing plant we found a large loft stacked with
the finished product. I was surprised that the
ploughs were kept in the factory instead of being
put to practical use on the farms. "We are
awaiting orders from Moscow,' the manager
explained; "it was a rush order and we were
threatened with arrest for sabotage in case it
should not be ready for shipment within six
weeks. That was six months ago, and as you
see the ploughs are still here. • The peasants

IN KHARKOV 189

need them badly, and we need their bread. But
we cannot exchange. We must await orders from
Moscow."

I recalled a remark of Zinoviev when on our
first meeting he stated that Petrograd lacked
fuel, notwithstanding the fact that less than a
hundred versts from the city there was enough
to supply almost half the country. I suggested
on that occasion that the workers of Petrograd
be called upon to get the fuel to the city. Zino
viev thought it very na'ive. "Should we grant
such a thing in Petrograd," he said, "the same
demand would be made in other cities. It
would create communal competition which is a
bourgeois institution. It would interfere with
our plan of nationalized and centralized con
trol." That was the dominating principle, and
as a result of it the Kharkov workers lacked
bread until Moscow should give orders to have
the ploughs sent to the peasants. The suprem
acy of the State was the cornerstone of Marx
ism.

Several days before leaving Kharkov I once
more visited the Board of Education and again
I failed to find its chairman. To my consterna
tion I was informed that I would receive no
material because it had been decided that

190 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Ukraina was to have its own museum and the
chairman had gone to Kiev to organize it. I
felt indignant at the miserable deception prac
tised upon us by a man in high Communist
position. Surely Ukraina had the right to have
its own museum, but why this petty fraud which
caused the Expedition to lose so much valuable
time.

The sequel to this incident came a few days
later when we were surprised by the hasty
arrival of our secretary who informed us that we
must leave Kharkov immediately and as quietly
as possible, because the local executive com
mittee of the party had decided to prevent our
carrying out statistical material from Ukraina.
Accordingly, we made haste to leave in order to
save what we had already collected. We knew
the material would be lost if it remained in
Kharkov and that the plan of an independent

T T 1 ' *

kraiman museum would for many years remain
only on paper.

Before departing we made arrangements for a
last conference with our local friends. We felt
that we might never see them again. On that
occasion the work of the "Nabat" Federation
was discussed in detail. That general Anarchist
organization of the south had been founded as

IN KHARKOV 191

a result of the experiences of the Russian An
archists and the conviction that a unified body
was necessary to make their work more effective.
They wanted not merely to die but to live for the
Revolution. It appeared that the Anarchists of
Russia had been divided into several factions,
most of them numerically small and of little
practical influence upon the progress of events
in Russia. They had been unable to establish
a permanent hold in the ranks of the workers.
It was therefore decided to gather all the An
archist elements of the Ukraina into one federa
tion and thus be in condition to present a solid
front in the struggle not only against invasion
and counter-revolution, but also against Com
munist persecution.

By means of unified effort the "Nabat" was
able to cover most of the south and get in close
touch with the life of the workers and the peas
antry. The frequent changes of government in
the Ukraina finally drove the Anarchists to
cover, the relentless persecution of the Bol-
sheviki having depleted their ranks of the most
active workers. Still the Federation had taken
root among the people. The little band was in
constant danger, but it was energetically con
tinuing its educational and propaganda work.

192 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

The Kharkov Anarchists had evidently ex
pected much from our presence in Russia.
They hoped that Alexander Berkman and my
self would join them in their work. We were
already seven months in Russia but had as yet
taken no direct part in the Anarchist move
ment. I could sense the disappointment and
impatience of our comrades. They were eager
we should at least inform the European and
American Anarchists of what was going on in
Russia, particularly about the ruthless persecu
tion of the Left revolutionary elements. Well
could I understand the attitude of my
Ukrainian friends. They had suffered much dur
ing the last years: they had seen the high hopes
of the Revolution crushed and Russia breaking
down beneath the heel of the Bolshevik State.
Yet I could not comply with their wishes. I
still had faith in the Bolsheviki, in their revo
lutionary sincerity and integrity. Moreover, I
felt that as long as Russia was being attacked
from the outside I could not speak in criticism.
I would not add fuel to the fires of counter
revolution. I therefore had to keep silent, and
stand by the Bolsheviki as the organized de
fenders of the Revolution. But my Russian
friends scorned this view. I was confounding

IN KHARKOV 193

the Communist Party with the Revolution, they
said; they were not the same; on the contrary,
they were opposed, even antagonistic. The
Communist State, according to the "Nabat"
Anarchists, had proven fatal to the Revolution.

Within a few hours before our departure we
received the confidential information that Mak-
hno had sent a call for Alexander Berkman and
myself to visit him. He wished to place his
situation before us, and, through us, before the
Anarchist movement of the world. He desired
to have it widely understood that he was not the
bandit, Jew-baiter, and counter-revolutionist
the Bolsheviki had proclaimed him. He was
devoted to the Revolution and was serving the
interests of the people as he conceived them.

It was a great temptation to meet the modern
Stenka Rasin, but we were pledged to the
Museum and could not break faith with the
other members of the Expedition.

CHAPTER XX

POLTAVA

IN THE general dislocation of life in Russia
and the breaking down of her economic
machinery the railroad system had suffered
most. The subject was discussed in almost
every meeting and every Soviet paper often
wrote about it. Between Petrograd and Mos
cow, however, the real state of affairs was not so
noticeable, though the main stations were always
overcrowded and the people waited for days
trying to secure places. Still, trains between
Petrograd and Moscow ran fairly regularly.
If one was fortunate enough to procure the
necessary permission to travel, and a ticket,
one could manage to make the journey without
particular danger to life or limb. But the
farther south one went the more apparent be
came the disorganization. Broken cars dotted
the landscape, disabled engines lay along the
route, and frequently the tracks were torn up.
Everywhere in the Ukraina the stations were

194

POLTAVA 195

filled to suffocation, the people making a wild
rush whenever a train was sighted. Most of
them remained for weeks on the platforms before
succeeding in getting into a train. The steps
and even the roofs of the cars were crowded by
men and women loaded with bundles and bags.
At every station there was a savage scramble for
a bit of space. Soldiers drove the passengers
off > the steps and the roofs, and often they had
to resort to arms. Yet so desperate were the
people and so determined to get to some place
where there was hope of securing a little food,
that they seemed indifferent to arrest and
risked their lives continuously in this mode of
travel. As a result of this situation there were
numberless accidents, scores of travellers being
often swept to their death by low bridges.
These sights had become so common that prac
tically no attention was paid to them. Travel
ling southward and on our return we frequently
witnessed these scenes. Constantly the me-
shotchniki [people with bags] mobbed the cars
in search of food, or when returning laden with
their precious burden of flour and potatoes.

Day and night the terrible scenes kept repeat
ing themselves at every station. It was be
coming a torture to travel in our well-equipped

196 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

car. It contained only six persons, leaving
considerable room for more; yet we were for
bidden to share it with others. It was not only
because of the danger of infection or of insects
but because the Museum effects and the material
collected would have surely vanished had we
allowed strangers on board. We sought to salve
our conscience by permitting women and children
or cripples to travel on the rear platform of our
car, though even that was contrary to orders.

Another feature which caused us considerable
annoyance was the inscription on our car, which
read: Extraordinary Commission of the Museum
of the Revolution. Our friends at the Museum
had assured us that the "title" would help us
to secure attention at the stations and would also
be effective in getting our car attached to such
trains as we needed. But already the first few
days proved that the inscription roused popular
feeling against us. The name "Extraordinary
Commission" signified to the people the Tcheka.
They paid no attention to the other words, being
terrorized by the first. Early in the journey
we noticed the sinister looks that met us at the
stations and the unwillingness of the people to
enter into friendly conversation. Presently it
dawned on us what was wrong; but it required

POLTAVA 197

considerable effort to explain the misunder
standing. Once put at his ease, the simple
Russian opened up his heart to us. A kind
word, a solicitous inquiry, a cigarette, changed his
attitude. Especially when assured that we were
not Communists and that we had come from
America, the people along the route would
soften and become more talkative, sometimes
even confidential. They were unsophisticated
and primitive, often crude. But illiterate and
undeveloped as they were, these plain folk were
clear about their needs. They were unspoiled
and possessed of a deep faith in elementary
justice and equality. I was often moved almost
to tears by these Russian peasant men and
women clinging to the steps of the moving train,
every moment in danger of their lives, yet re
maining good-humoured and indifferent to their
miserable condition. They would exchange
stories of their lives or sometimes break out in
the melodious, sad songs of the south. At the
stations, while the train waited for an engine,
the peasants would gather into groups, form a
large circle, and then someone would begin to
play the accordion, the bystanders accompanying
with song. It was strange to see these hungry
and ragged peasants, huge loads on their backs.

198 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

standing about entirely forgetful of their en
vironment, pouring their hearts out in folk songs.
A peculiar people, these Russians, saint and
devil in one, manifesting the highest as well as the
most brutal impulses, capable of almost any
thing except sustained effort. I have often
wondered whether this lack did not to some
extent explain the disorganization of the coun
try and the tragic condition of the Revolution.

We reached Poltava in the morning. The
city looked cheerful in the bright sunlight, the
streets lined with trees, with little garden patches
between them. Vegetables in great variety
were growing on them, and it was refreshing to
note that no fences were about and still the
vegetables were safe, which would surely not
have been the case in Petrograd or Moscow.
Apparently there was not so much hunger in this
city as in the north.

Together with the Expedition Secretary I
visited the government headquarters. Instead
of the usual hpolkom [Executive Committee
of the Soviet] Poltava was ruled by a revolu
tionary committee known as the Revkom. This
indicated that the Bolsheviki had not yet had
time to organize a Soviet in the city. We suc
ceeded in getting the chairman of the Revkom

POLTAVA 199

interested in the purpose of our journey and he
promised to cooperate and to issue an order to
the various departments that material be col
lected and prepared for us. Our gracious recep
tion augured good returns.

In the Bureau for the Care of Mothers and
Infants I met two very interesting women — one
the daughter of the great Russian writer,
Korolenko, the other the former chairman of the
Save-the-Children Society. Learning of the
purpose of my presence in Poltava the women
offered their aid and invited me to visit their
school and the near-by home of Korolenko.

The school was located in a small house set
deep in a beautiful garden, the place hardly
visible from the street. The reception room
contained a rich collection of dolls of every
variety. There were handsome Ukrainian las
sies, competing in colourful dress and headgear
with their beautiful sisters from the Caucasus;
dashing Cossacks from the Don looked proudly
at their less graceful brothers from the Volga.
There were dolls of every description, represent
ing local costumes of almost every part of
Russia. The collection also contained various
toys, the handwork of the villages, and beauti
ful designs of the kustarny manufacture, rep-

200 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

resenting groups of children in Russian and
Siberian peasant attire.

The ladies of the house related the story of
the Save-the-Children Society. The organiza
tion in existence, for a number of years, was of
very limited scope until the February Revolution.
Then new elements, mainly of revolutionary
type, joined the society. They strove to ex
tend its work and to provide not only for the
physical well-being of the children but also to
educate them, teach them to love work and
develop their appreciation of beauty. Toys
and dolls, made chiefly of waste material, were
exhibited and the proceeds applied to the needs
of the children. After the October Revolution,
when the Bolsheviki possessed themselves of
Poltava, the society was repeatedly raided and
some of the instructors arrested on suspicion
that the institution was a counter-revolutionary
nest. The small band which remained went
on, however, with their efforts on behalf of the
children. They succeeded in sending a delega
tion to Lunacharsky to appeal for permission to
carry on their work. Lunacharsky proved sym
pathetic, issued the requested document, and even
provided them with a letter to the local authori
ties, pointing out the importance of their labours.

POLTAVA 201

But the society continued to be subjected to
annoyance and discrimination. To avoid being
charged with sabotage the women offered their
services to the Poltava Department of Education.
There they worked from nine in the morning till
three in the afternoon, devoting their leisure time
to their school. But the antagonism of the Com
munist authorities was not appeased: the society
remained in disfavour.

The women pointed out that the Soviet
Government pretended to stand for self-deter
mination and yet every independent effort was
being discredited and all initiative discour
aged, if not entirely suppressed. Not even
the Ukrainian Communists were permitted self-
determination. The majority of the chiefs of
the departments were Moscow appointees, and
Ukraina was practically deprived of opportunity
for independent action. A bitter struggle was
going on between the Communist Party of
Ukraina and the Central authorities in Moscow.
The policy of the latter was to control every
thing.

The women were devoted to the cause of the
children and willing to suffer misunderstanding
and even persecution for the sake of their in
terest in the welfare of their charges. Both had

202 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

understanding for and sympathy with the
Revolution, though they could not approve of
the terroristic methods of the Bolsheviki. They
were intelligent and cultured people and I felt
their home an oasis in the desert of Communist
thought and feeling. Before I left the ladies
supplied me with a collection of the children's
work and some exquisite colour drawings by
Miss Korolenko, begging me to send the things
to America as specimens of their labours. They
were very eager to have the American people
learn about their society and its efforts.

Subsequently I had the opportunity of meet
ing Korolenko who was still very feeble from
his recent illness. He looked the patriarch,
venerable and benign; he quickly warmed one's
heart by his melodious voice and the fine face
that lit up when he spoke of the people. He
referred affectionately to America and his friends
there. But the light faded out of his eyes and
his voice quivered with grief as he spoke of the
great tragedy of Russia and the suffering of the
people.

'You want to know my views on the present
situation and my attitude toward the Bol
sheviki?" he asked. "It would take too long to
tell you about it. I am writing to Lunacharsky

POLTAVA 203

a series of letters for which he had asked and
which he promised to publish. The letters deal
with this subject. Frankly speaking, I do not
believe they will ever appear in print, but I
shall send you a copy of the letters for the
Museum as soon as they are complete. There
will be six of them. I can give you two right
now. Briefly, my opinion is summarized in a
certain passage in one of these letters. I said
there that if the gendarmes of the Tsar would
have had the power not only to arrest but also
to shoot us, the situation would have been like
the present one. That is what is happening
before my eyes every day. The Bolsheviki
claim that such methods are inseparable from
the Revolution. But I cannot agree with them
that persecution and constant shooting will
serve the interests of the people or of the Revolu
tion. It was always my conception that revolu
tion meant the highest expression of humanity
and of justice. In Russia to-day both are
absent. At a time when the fullest expression
and cooperation of all intellectual and spiritual
forces are necessary to reconstruct the country,
a gag has been placed upon the whole people.
To dare question the wisdom and efficacy of the
so-called dictatorship of the proletariat or of the

204 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Communist Party leaders is considered a crime.
We lack the simplest requisites of the real
essence of a social revolution, and yet we pre
tend to have placed ourselves at the head of a
world revolution. Poor Russia will have to
pay dearly for this experiment. It may even
delay for a long time fundamental changes in
other countries. The bourgeoisie will be able to
defend its reactionary methods by pointing to
what has happened in Russia."

With heavy heart I took leave of the famous
writer, one of the last of the great literary men
who had been the conscience and the spiritual
voice of intellectual Russia. Again I felt him
uttering the cry of that part of the Russian in
telligentsia whose sympathies were entirely with
the people and whose life and work were inspired
only by the love of their country and the interest
for its welfare.

In the evening I visited a relative of Koro-
lenko, a very sympathetic old lady who was the
chairman of the Poltava Political Red Cross.
She told me much about things that Korolenko
himself was too modest to mention. Old and
feeble as he was, he was spending most of his
time in the Tcheka, trying to save the lives of
those innocently condemned to death. He fre-

POLTAVA 205

quently wrote letters of appeal to Lenin, Gorki,
and Lunacharsky, begging them to intervene
to prevent senseless executions. The present
chairman of the Poltava Tcheka was a man re
lentless and cruel. His sole solution of difficult
problems was shooting. The lady smiled sadly
when I told her that the man had been very
gracious to the members of our Expedition.
"That was for show/' she said, "we know him
better. We have daily occasion to see his
graciousness from this balcony. Here pass the
victims taken to slaughter. "

Poltava is famous as a manufacturing centre
of peasant handicrafts. Beautiful linen, em
broidery, laces, and basket work were among the
products of the province's industry. I visited
the Department of Social Economy, the sovnark-
hoz, where I learned that those industries were
practically suspended. Only a small collection
remained in the Department. "We used to
supply the whole world, even America, with our
kustarny work," said the woman in charge, who
had formerly been the head of the Zemstvo,
which took special pride in fostering those peas
ant efforts. "Our needlework was known all
over the country as among the finest specimens
of art, but now it has all been destroyed. The

206 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

peasants have lost their art impulse, they have
become brutalized and corrupted/* She was
bemoaning the loss of peasant art as a mother
does that of her child.

During our stay in Poltava we got in touch
with representatives of various other social
elements. The reaction of the Zionists toward
the Bolshevik regime was particularly interesting.
At first they refused to speak with us, evidently
made very cautious by previous experience. It
was also the presence of our secretary, a Gentile,
that aroused their distrust. I arranged to meet
some of the Zionists alone, and gradually they
became more confidential. I had learned in
Moscow, in connection with the arrest of the
Zionists there, that the Bolsheviki were inclined
to consider them counter-revolutionary. But I
found the Poltava Zionists very simple orthodox
Jews who certainly could not impress any one as
conspirators or active enemies. They were
passive, though bitter against the Bolshevik
regime. It was claimed that the Bolsheviki
made no pogroms and that they do not persecute
the Jews, they said; but that was true only in a
certain sense. There were two kinds of pogroms:
the loud, violent ones, and the silent ones. Ol the
two the Zionists considered the former preferable.

POLTAVA 207

The violent pogrom might last a day or a week;
the Jews are attacked and robbed, sometimes
even murdered; and then it is over. But the
silent pogroms continued all the time. They
consisted of constant discrimination, persecu
tion, and hounding. The Bolshevik! had closed
the Jewish hospitals and now sick Jews were
forced to eat treife in the Gentile hospitals
The same applied to the Jewish children in the
Bolshevik feeding houses. If a Jew and a
Gentile happened to be arrested on the
charge, it was certain that the Gentile would go
free while the Jew would be sent to prison and
sometimes even shot. They were all the time
exposed to insult and indignities, not to men
tion the fact that they were doomed to slow
starvation, since all trade had been suppressed.
The Jews in the Ukraina were suffering a con
tinuous silent pogrom.

I felt that the Zionist criticism of the
shevik regime was inspired by a narrow religious
and nationalistic attitude. They were Orthodox
Jews mostly tradesmen whom the Revolution
had deprived of their sphere of activity,
theless, their problem was real— the problem o
the Jew suffocating in the atmosphere of active
anti-Semitism. In Poltava the leading Com-

208 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

munist and Bolshevik officials were Gentiles.
Their dislike of the Jews was frank and open.
Anti-Semitism throughout the Ukraine was more
virulent than even in pre-revolutionary days.

After leaving Poltava we continued on our
journey south, but we did not get farther than
Fastov owing to the lack of engines. That
town, once prosperous, was now impoverished
and reduced to less than one third of its former
population. Almost all activity was at a stand
still. We found the market place, in the centre
of the town, a most insignificant affair, consist
ing of a few stalls having small supplies of white
flour, sugar, and butter. There were more
women about than men, and I was especially
struck by the strange expression in their eyes.
They did not look you full in the face; they
stared past you with a dumb, hunted animal
expression. We told the women that we had
heard many terrible pogroms had taken place
in Fastov and we wished to get data on the sub
ject to be sent to America to enlighten the people
there on the condition of the Ukrainian Jews.
As the news of our presence spread many
women and children surrounded us, all much
excited and each trying to tell her story of the
horrors of Fastov. Fearful pogroms, they re-

POLTAVA 209

lated, had taken place in that city, the most
terrible of them by Denikin, in September, 1919.
It lasted eight days, during which 4,000 persons
were killed, while several thousand died as the
result of wounds and shock. Seven thousand
perished from hunger and exposure on the road
to Kiev, while trying to escape the Denikin
savages. The greater part of the city had been
destroyed or burned; many of the older Jews
were trapped in the synagogue and there mur
dered, while others had been driven to the public
square where they were slaughtered. Not a
woman, young or old, that had not been out
raged, most of them in the very sight of their
fathers, husbands, and brothers. The young
girls, some of them mere children, had suffered
repeated violation at the hands of the Denikin
soldiers. I understood the dreadful look in the
eyes of the women of Fastov.

Men and women besieged us with appeals to
inform their relatives in America about their
miserable condition. Almost everyone, it
seemed, had some kin in that country,
crowded into our car in the evenings, bringing
scores of letters to be forwarded to the States.
Some of the messages bore no addresses, the
simple folk thinking the name sufficient.

210 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

had not heard from their American kindred dur
ing the years of war and revolution but still
hoped that they were to be found somewhere
across the ocean. It was touching to see the
people's deep faith that their relatives in America
would save them.

Every evening our car was filled with the un
fortunates of Fastov. Among them was a
particularly interesting visitor, a former at
torney, who had repeatedly braved the pogrom
makers and saved many Jewish lives. He had
kept a diary of the pogroms and we spent a
whole evening listening to the reading of his
manuscript. It was a simple recital of facts
and dates, terrible in its unadorned objectivity.
It was the soul cry of a people continuously
violated and tortured and living in daily fear of
new indignities and outrages. Only one bright
spot there was in the horrible picture: no po
groms had taken place under the Bolsheviki.
The gratitude of the Eastov Jews was pathetic.
They clung to the Communists as to a saving
straw. It was encouraging to think that the
Bolshevik regime was at least free from that
worst of all Russian curses, pogroms against
Jews.

CHAPTER XXI

KIEV

OWING to the many difficulties and delays
the journey from Fastov to Kiev lasted
six days and was a continuous nightmare.
The railway situation was appalling. At every
station scores of freight cars clogged the lines.
Nor were they loaded with provisions to feed
the starving cities; they were densely packed
with human cargo among whom the sick were a
large percentage. All along the route the wait
ing rooms and platforms were filled with crowds,
bedraggled and dirty. Even more ghastly were
the scenes at night. Everywhere masses of
desperate people, shouting and struggling to gain
a foothold on the train. They resembled the
damned of Dante's Inferno, their faces ashen
gray in the dim light, all frantically fighting for a
place. Now and then an agonized cry would
ring through the night and the already moving
train would come to a halt: somebody had been
thrown to his death under the wheels.

211

212 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

It was a relief to reach Kiev. We had ex
pected to find the city almost in ruins, but we
were pleasantly disappointed. When we left
Petrograd the Soviet Press contained numerous
stories of vandalism committed by Poles before
evacuating Kiev. They had almost demolished
the famous ancient cathedral in the city, the
papers wrote, destroyed the water works and
electric stations, and set fire to several parts of
the city. Tchicherin and Lunacharsky issued
passionate appeals to the cultured people of the
world in protest against such barbarism. The
crime of the Poles against Art was compared with
that committed by the Germans in Rheims,
whose celebrated cathedral had been injured by
Prussian artillery. We were, therefore, much
surprised to find Kiev in even better condition
than Petrograd. In fact, the city had suffered
very little, considering the numerous changes
of government and the accompanying military
operations. It is true that some bridges and
railroad tracks had been blown up on the out
skirts of the city, but Kiev itself was almost un
harmed. People looked at us in amazement
when we made inquiries about the condition of
the cathedral: they had not heard the Moscow
report.

KIEV 213

Unlike our welcome in Kharkov and Poltava,
Kiev proved a disappointment. The secretary
of the Ispolkom was not very amiable and
appeared not at all impressed by Zinoviev's
signature on our credentials. Our secretary suc
ceeded in seeing the chairman of the Executive
Committee, but returned very discouraged: that
high official was too impatient to listen to her
representations. He was busy, he said, and
could not be troubled. It was decided that I
try my luck as an American, with the result
that the chairman finally agreed to give us
access to the available material. It was a sad
reflection on the irony of life. America was in
league with world imperialism to starve and
crush Russia. Yet it was sufficient to mention
that one came from America to find the key to
everything Russian. It was pathetic, and rather
distasteful to make use of that key.

In Kiev antagonism to Communism was in
tense, even the local Bolsheviki being bitter
against Moscow. It was out of the question for
anyone coming from "the centre" to secure their
cooperation unless armed with State powers.
The Government employees in Soviet institu
tions took no interest in anything save their
rations. Bureaucratic indifference and incom-

214 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

petence in Ukraina were even worse than in
Moscow and were augmented by nationalistic
resentment against the "Russians/' It was
true also of Kharkov and Poltava, though in a
lesser degree. Here the very atmosphere was
charged with distrust and hatred of everything
Muscovite. The deception practised on us by
the chairman of the Educational Department
of Kharkov was characteristic of the resent
ment almost every Ukrainian official felt toward
Moscow. The chairman was a Ukrainian to
the core, but he could not openly ignore our cre
dentials signed by Zinoviev and Lunacharsky.
He promised to aid our efforts but he disliked the
idea of Petrograd "absorbing" the historic
material of the Ukraina. In Kiev there was no
attempt to mask the opposition to Moscow. One
was made to feel it everywhere. But the mo
ment the magic word "America" was spoken and
the people made to understand that one was
not a Communist, they became interested and
courteous, even confidential. The Ukrainian
Communists were also no exception.

The information and documents collected in
Kiev were of the same character as the data
gathered in former cities. The system of educa
tion, care of the sick, distribution of labour and

KIEV 215

so forth were similar to the general Bolshevik
scheme. "We follow the Moscow plan," said a
Ukrainian teacher, "with the only difference
that in our schools the Ukrainian language is
taught together with Russian." The people,
and especially the children, looked better fed
and clad than those of Russia proper: food was
comparatively more plentiful and cheaper.
There were show schools as in Petrograd and
Moscow, and no one apparently realized the cor
rupting effect of such discrimination upon the
teachers as well as the children. The latter
looked with envy upon the pupils of the favoured
schools and believed that they were only for
Communist children, which in reality was not
the case. The teachers, on the other hand,
knowing how little attention was paid to ordinary
schools, were negligent in their work. All tried
to get a position in the show schools which were
enjoying special and varied rations.

The chairman of the Board of Health was an
alert and competent man, one of the few officials
in Kiev who showed interest in the Expedition
and its work. He devoted much time to ex
plaining to us the methods of his organization
and pointing out interesting places to visit and
the material which could be collected for the

216 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

Museum. He especially called our attention to
the Jewish hospital for crippled children.

I found the latter in charge of a cultivated and

charming man, Dr. N . For twenty years he

had been head of the hospital and he took in
terest as well as pride in showing us about his
institution and relating its history.

The hospital had formerly been one of the
most famous in Russia, the pride of the local
Jews who had built and maintained it. But
within recent years its usefulness had become
curtailed owing to the frequent changes of
government. It had been exposed to persecu
tion and repeated pogroms. Jewish patients
critically ill were often forced out of their beds to
make room for the favourites of this or that
regime. The officers of the Denikin army were
most brutal. They drove the Jewish patients
out into the street, subjected them to indignities
and abuse, and would have killed them had it
not been for the intercession of the hospital
staff who at the risk of their own lives protected
the sick. It was only the fact that the majority
of the staff were Gentiles that saved the hospital
and its inmates. But the shock resulted in
numerous deaths and many patients were left
with shattered nerves.

KIEV 217

The doctor also related to me the story of some
of the patients, most of them victims of the
Fastov pogroms. Among them were children be
tween the ages of six and eight, gaunt and sickly
looking, terror stamped on their faces. They
had lost all their kin, in some cases the whole
family having been killed before their eyes.
These children often waked at night, the
physician said, in fright at their horrible dreams.
Everything possible was being done for them,
but so far the unfortunate children had not been
freed from the memory of their terrible experi
ences at Fastov. The doctor pointed out a group
of young girls between the ages of fourteen and
eighteen, the worst victims of the Denikin pog
rom. All of them had been repeatedly outraged
and were in a mutilated state when they came to
the hospital; it would take years to restore them
to health. The doctor emphasized the fact that
no pogroms had taken place during the Bolshevik
regime. It was a great relief to him and his staff
to know that his patients were no longer in such
danger. But the hospital had other difficulties.
There was the constant interference by political
Commissars and the daily struggle for supplies.
"I spend most of my time in the various bu
reaus," he said, "instead of devoting myself to my

218 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
patients. Ignorant officials are given power
over the medical profession, continuously ha
rassing the doctors in their work." The doctor
himself had been repeatedly arrested for sabotage
because of his inability to comply with the
numerous decrees and orders, frequently mu
tually contradictory. It was the result of a
system in which political usefulness rather than
professional merit played the main role. It
often happened that a first-class physician of
well-known repute and long experience would be
suddenly ordered to some distant part to place
a Communist doctor in his position. Under such
conditions the best efforts were paralysed. More
over, there was the general suspicion of the in
telligentsia, which was a demoralizing factor. It
was true that many of that class had sabo
taged, but there were also those who did he
roic and self-sacrificing work. The Bolshevik!,
by their indiscriminate antagonism toward the
intelligentsia as a class, roused prejudices and
passions which poisoned the mainsprings of
the cultural life of the country. The Russian
Intelligentsia had with its very blood fertilized
the soil of the Revolution, yet it was not given
it to reap the fruits of its long struggle. "A
tragic fate," the doctor remarked; "unless one

KIEV 219

forget it in his work, existence would be impos
sible."

The institution for crippled children proved
a very model and modern hospital, located in
the heart of a large park. It was devoted to
the marred creatures with twisted limbs and de
formed bodies, victims of the great war, disease,
and famine. The children looked aged and
withered; like Father Time, they had been born
old. They lay in rows on clean white beds,
baking in the warm sun of the Ukrainian sum
mer. The head physician, who guided us
through the institution, seemed much beloved
by his little charges. They were eager and
pleased to see him as he approached each help
less child and bent over affectionately to make
some inquiries about its health. The hospital
had been in existence for many years and was
considered the first of its kind in Russia. Its
equipment for the care of deformed and crip
pled children was among the most modern.
"Since the war and the Revolution we feel
rather behind the times," the doctor said; "we
have been cut off from the civilized world for so
many years. But in spite of the various govern
ment changes we have striven to keep up our
standards and to help the unfortunate victims of

220 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

strife and disease." The supplies for the institu
tion were provided by the Government and the
hospital force was exposed to no interference,
though I understood from the doctor that be
cause of his political neutrality he was looked
upon by the Bolsheviki as inclined to counter
revolution.

The hospital contained a large number of
children; some of those who could walk about
studied music and art, and we had the oppor
tunity of attending an informal concert arranged
by the children and their teachers in our honour.
Some of them played the balalaika in a most
artistic manner, and it was consoling to see those
marred children finding forgetfulness in the
rhythm of the folk melodies of the Ukraina.

Early during our stay in Kiev we learned that
the most valuable material for the Museum was
not to be found in the Soviet institutions, but
that it was in the possession of other political
groups and private persons. The best statis
tical information on pogroms, for instance, was
in the hands of a former Minister of the Rada
regime in the Ukraina. I succeeded in locating
the man and great was my surprise when, upon
learning my identity, he presented me with
several copies of the Mother Earth magazine I

KIEV 221

had published in America. The ex-Minister
arranged a small gathering to which were in
vited some writers and poets and men active in
the Jewish Kulturliga to meet several members
of our Expedition. The gathering consisted of
the best elements of the local Jewish intelli
gentsia. We discussed the Revolution, the Bol
shevik methods, and the Jewish problem. Most
of those present, though opposed to the Com
munist theories, were in favour of the Soviet
Government. They felt that the Bolsheviki, in
spite of their many blunders, were striving to
further the interests of Russia and the Revolu
tion. At any rate, under the Communist regime
the Jews were not exposed to the pogroms prac
tised upon them by all the other regimes of
Ukraina. Those Jewish intellectuals argued
that the Bolsheviki at least permitted the Jews
to live, and that they were therefore to be pre
ferred to any other governments and should be
supported by the Jews. They were fearful of
the growth of anti-Semitism in Russia and
were horrified at the possibility of the Bolshe
viki being overthrown. Wholesale slaughter
of the Jews would undoubtedly follow, they be
lieved.

Some of the younger set held a different view.

222 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

The Bolshevik regime had resulted in increased
hatred toward the Jews, they said, for the masses
were under the impression that most of the Com
munists were Jews. Communism stood for
forcible tax-collection, punitive expeditions, and
the Tcheka. Popular opposition to the Com
munists therefore expressed itself in the hatred
of the whole Jewish race. Thus Bolshevik
tyranny had added fuel to the latent anti-
Semitism of the Ukraina. Moreover, to prove
that they were not discriminating in favour of
the Jews, the Bolsheviki had gone to the other
extreme and frequently arrested and punished
Jews for things that the Gentiles could do with
impunity. The Bolsheviki also fostered and
endowed cultural work in the south in the
Ukrainian language, while at the same time they
discouraged such efforts in the Jewish language.
It was true that the Kulturliga was still per
mitted to exist, but its work was hampered at
every step. In short, the Bolsheviki permitted
the Jews to live, but only in a physical sense.
Culturally, they were condemned to death.
The Yevkom (Jewish Communist Section) was
receiving, of course, every advantage and sup
port from the Government, but then its mission
was to carry the gospel of the proletarian dicta-

KIEV 223

torship to the Jews of the Ukraina. It was
significant that the Yevkom was more anti-Semi
tic than the Ukrainians themselves. If it had
the power it would pogrom every non-Com
munist Jewish organization and destroy all
Jewish educational efforts. This young element
emphasized that they did not favour the over
throw of the Bolshevik Government; but they
could not support it, either.

I felt that both Jewish factions took a purely
nationalistic view of the Russian situation. I
could well understand their personal attitude,
the result of their own suffering and the persecu
tion of the Jewish race. Still, my chief concern
was the Revolution and its effects upon Russia
as a whole. Whether the Bolsheviki should be
supported or not could not depend merely on
their attitude to the Jews and the Jewish ques
tion. The latter was surely a very vital and
pressing issue, especially in the Ukraina; yet the
general problem involved was much greater.
It embraced the complete economic and social
emancipation of the whole people of Russia, the
Jews included. If the Bolshevik methods and
practices were not imposed upon them by the
force of circumstances, if they were conditioned
in their own theories and principles, and if their

224 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

sole object was to secure their own power, I
could not support them. They might be inno
cent of pogroms against the Jews, but if they
were pogroming the whole of Russia then they
had failed in their mission as a revolutionary
party. I was not prepared to say that I had
reached a clear understanding of all the prob
lems involved, but my experience so far led me to
think that it was the basic Bolshevik conception
of the Revolution which was false, its practical
application necessarily resulting in the great
Russian catastrophe of which the Jewish tragedy
was but a minor part.

My host and his friends could not agree with
my viewpoint: we represented opposite camps.
But the gathering was nevertheless intensely
interesting and it was arranged that we meet
again before our departure from the city.

Returning to our car one day I saw a detach
ment of Red Army soldiers at the railway sta
tion. On inquiry I found that foreign delegates
were expected from Moscow and that the
soldiers had been ordered out to participate in a
demonstration in their honour. Groups of the
uniformed men stood about discussing the ar
rival of the mission. There were many ex
pressions of dissatisfaction because the soldiers

KIEV 225

had been kept waiting so long. "These people
come to Russia just to look us over," one of the
Red Army men said; "do they know anything
about us or are they interested in how we live ?
Not they. It's a holiday for them. They are
dressed up and fed by the Government, but they
never talk to us and all they see is how we
march past. Here we have been lying around
in the burning sun for hours while the delegates
are probably being feasted at some other station.
That's comradeship and equality for you!"

I had heard such sentiments voiced before,
but it was surprising to hear them from soldiers.
I thought of Angelica Balabanova, who was ac
companying the Italian Mission, and I wondered
what she would think if she knew how the men
felt. It had probably never occurred to her that
those "ignorant Russian peasants" in military
uniform had looked through the sham of official
demonstrations.

The following day we received an invitation
from Balabanova to attend a banquet given
in honour of the Italian delegates. Anxious
to meet the foreign guests, several members of
our Expedition accepted the invitation.

The affair took place in the former Chamber
of Commerce building, profusely decorated for

226 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA'

the occasion. In the main banquet hall long
tables were heavily laden with fresh-cut flowers,
several varieties of southern fruit, and wine.
The sight reminded one of the feasts of the old
bourgeoisie, and I could see that Angelica felt
rather uncomfortable at the lavish display of
silverware and wealth. The banquet opened
with the usual toasts, the guests drinking to
Lenin, Trotsky, the Red Army, and the Third
International, the whole company rising as the
revolutionary anthem was intoned after each
toast, with the soldiers and officers standing at
attention in good old military style.

Among the delegates were two young French
Anarcho-syndicalists. They had heard of our
presence in Kiev and had been looking for us all
day without being able to locate us. After the
banquet they were immediately to leave for
Petrograd, so that we had only a short time at
our disposal. On our way to the station the
delegates related that they had collected much
material on the Revolution which they intended
to publish in France. They had become con
vinced that all was not well with the Bolshevik
regime: they had come to realize that the dicta
torship of the proletariat was in the exclusive
hands of the Communist Party, while the com-

KIEV 227

mon worker was enslaved as much as ever. It
was their intention, they said, to speak frankly
about these matters to their comrades at home
and to substantiate their attitude by the ma
terial in their possession. " Do you expect to get
the documents out?" I asked La Petit, one of
the delegates. "You don't mean that I might be
prevented from taking out my own notes/' he
replied. "The Bolsheviki would not dare to go so
far — not with foreign delegates, at any rate."
He seemed so confident that I did not care to
pursue the subject further. That night the
delegates left Kiev and a short time afterward
they departed from Russia. They were never
seen alive again. Without making any com
ment upon their disappearance I merely want to
mention that when I returned to Moscow several
months later it was generally related that the
two Anarcho-syndicalists, with several other
men who had accompanied them, were over
taken by a storm somewhere off the coast of Fin
land, and were all drowned. There were rumours
of foul play, though I am not inclined to credit
the story, especially in view of the fact that to
gether with the Anarcho-syndicalists also per
ished a Communist in good standing in Moscow.
But their disappearance with all the documents

228 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

they had collected has never been satisfactorily
explained.

The rooms assigned to the members of our
Expedition were located in a house within a
passage leading off the Kreschatik, the main
street of Kiev. It had formerly been the wealthy
residential section of the city and its fine houses,
though lately neglected, still looked imposing.
The passage also contained a number of shops,
ruins of former glory, which catered to the well-
to-do of the neighbourhood. Those stores still
had good supplies of vegetables, fruit, milk, and
butter. They were owned mostly by old Jew.s
whose energies could not be applied to any
other usefulness — Orthodox Jews to whom the
Revolution and the Bolsheviki were a bete noire,
because that had "ruined all business." The
little shops barely enabled their owners to exist;
moreover, they were in constant danger of
Tcheka raids, on which occasions the provisions
would be expropriated. The appearance of
those stores did not justify the belief that the
Government would find it worth while raiding
them. "Would not the Tcheka prefer to con
fiscate the goods of the big delicatessen and fruit
stores on the Kreschatik?" I asked an old Jew
storekeeper. "Not at all," he replied; "those

KIEV 229

stores are immune because they pay heavy

taxes/'

The morning following the banquet I went
down to the little grocery store I used to do my
shopping in. The place was closed, and I was
surprised to find that not one of the small shops
near by was open. Two days later I learned
that the places had all been raided on the eve of
the banquet in order to feast the foreign delegates.
I promised myself never to attend another Bol
shevik banquet.

Among the members of the Kulturliga I met a
man who had lived in America, but for several
years now was with his family in Kiev. His
home proved one of the most hospitable during
my stay in the south, and as he had many callers
belonging to various social classes I was able to
gather much information about the recent his
tory of Ukraina. My host was not a Com
munist: though critical of the Bolshevik regime,
he was by no means antagonistic. He used to
say that the main fault of the Bolsheviki was
their lack of psychological perception. He as
serted that no government had ever such a
great opportunity in the Ukraina as the Com
munists. The people had suffered so much
from the various occupations and were so op-

23o MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

pressed by every new regime that they rejoiced
when the Bolsheviki entered Kiev. Everybody
hoped that they would bring relief. But the
Communists quickly destroyed all illusions.
Within a few months they proved themselves
entirely incapable of administering the affairs of
the city; their methods antagonized the people,
and the terrorism of the Tcheka turned even the
friends of the Communists to bitter enmity.
Nobody objected to the nationalization of in
dustry and it was of course expected that the
Bolsheviki would expropriate. But when the
bourgeoisie had been relieved of its possessions
it was found that only the raiders benefited.
Neither the people at large nor even the proleta
rian class gained anything. Precious jewellery,
silverware, furs, practically the whole wealth
of Kiev seemed to disappear and was no more
heard of. Later members of the Tcheka strutted
about the streets with their women gowned in
the finery of the bourgeoisie. When private
business places were closed, the doors were locked
and sealed and guards placed there. But within
a few weeks the stores were found empty. This
kind of " management" and the numerous new
laws and edicts, often mutually conflicting,
served the Tcheka as a pretext to terrorize and

KIEV 231

mulct the citizens and aroused general hatred
against the Bolsheviki. The people had turned
against Petlura, Denikin, and the Poles. They
welcomed the Bolsheviki with open arms. But
the last disappointed them as the first.

"Now we have gotten used to the situation,"
my host said, "we just drift and manage as best
we can." But he thought it a pity that the
Bolsheviki lost such a great chance. They were
unable to hold the confidence of the people and
to direct that confidence into constructive chan
nels. Not only had the Bolsheviki failed to
operate the big industries: they also destroyed
the small kustarnaya work. There had been
thousands of artisans in the province of Kiev,
for instance; most of them had worked by them
selves, without exploiting any one. They were
independent producers who supplied a certain
need of the community. The Bolsheviki in their
reckless scheme of nationalization suspended
those efforts without being able to replace them
by aught else. They had nothing to give either
to the workers or to the peasants. The city
proletariat faced the alternative of starving in
the city or going back to the country. They
preferred the latter, of course. Those who
could not get to the country engaged in trade,

232 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

buying and selling jewellery, for instance. Prac
tically everybody in Russia had become a
tradesman, the Bolshevik Government no less
than private speculators. "You have no idea
of the amount of illicit business carried on by
officials in Soviet institutions," my host in
formed me; "nor is the army free from it. My
nephew, a Red Army officer, a Communist, has
just returned from the Polish front. He can tell
you about these practices in the army."

I was particularly eager to talk to the young
officer. In my travels I had met many soldiers,
and I found that most of them had retained the
old slave psychology and bowed absolutely to
military discipline. Some, however, were very
wide awake and could see clearly what was hap
pening about them. A certain small element
in the Red Army was entirely transformed by
the Revolution. It was proof of the gestation
of new life and new forms which set Russia apart
from the rest of the world, notwithstanding
Bolshevik tyranny and oppression. For that
element the Revolution had a deep significance.
They saw in it something vital which even the
daily decrees could not compress within the
narrow Communist mould. It was their attitude
and general sentiment that the Bolsheviki had

KIEV 233

not kept faith with the people. They saw the
Communist State growing at the cost of the
Revolution, and some of them even went so far
as to voice the opinion that the Bolsheviki had
become the enemies of the Revolution. But
they all felt that for the time being they could do
nothing. They were determined to dispose of
the foreign enemies first. "Then," they would
say, "we will face the enemy at home."

The Red Army officer proved a fine-looking
young fellow very deeply in earnest. At first
he was disinclined to talk, but in the course of
the evening he grew less embarrassed and ex
pressed his feelings freely. He had found much
corruption at the front, he said. But it was
even worse at the base of supplies where he had
done duty for some time. The men at the front
were practically without clothes or shoes. The
food was insufficient and the Army was ravaged
by typhoid and cholera. Yet the spirit of the
men was wonderful. They fought bravely,
enthusiastically, because they believed in their
ideal of a free Russia. But while they were
fighting and dying for the great cause, the higher
officers, the so-called tovaristchi, sat in safe re
treat and there drank and gambled and got rich
by speculation. The supplies so desperately

234 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

needed at the front were being sold at fabulous
prices to speculators.

The young officer had become so disheartened
by the situation, he had thought of committing
suicide. But now he was determined to return
to the front. "I shall go back and tell my com
rades what I have seen/' he said; "our real work
will begin when we have defeated foreign inva
sion. Then we shall go after those who are trad
ing away the Revolution."

I felt there was no cause to despair so long as
Russia possessed such spirits.

I returned to my room to find our secretary
waiting to report the valuable find she had made.
It consisted of rich Denikin material stacked in
the city library and apparently forgotten by
everybody. The librarian, a zealous Ukrainian
nationalist, refused to permit the " Russian"
Museum to take the material, though it was of no
use to Kiev, literally buried in an obscure corner
and exposed to danger and ruin. We decided to
appeal to the Department of Education and to
apply the "American amulet." It grew to be a
standing joke among the members of the Expedi
tion to resort to the " amulet " in difficult situations.
Such matters were always referred to Alex
ander Berkman and myself as the "Americans."

KIEV 235

It required considerable persuasion to interest
the chairman in the matter. He persisted in
refusing till I finally asked him: "Are you willing
that it become known in America that you prefer
to have valuable historical material rot away in
Kiev rather than give it to the Petrograd Mu
seum, which is sure to become a world centre for
the study of the Russian Revolution and where
Ukraina is to have such an important part?"
At last the chairman issued the required order
and our Expedition took possession of the ma
terial, to the great elation of our secretary, to
whom the Museum represented the most im
portant interest in life.

In the afternoon of the same day I was visited
by a woman Anarchist who was accompanied by
a young peasant girl, confidentially introduced
as the wife of Makhno. My heart stood still for
a moment: the presence of that girl in Kiev
meant certain death were she discovered by
the Bolsheviki. It also involved grave dan
ger to my landlord and his family, for in Com
munist Russia harbouring— even if unwittingly
—a member of the Makhno povstantsi often in
curred the worst consequences. I expressed
surprise at the young woman's recklessness in
thus walking into the very jaws of the enemy.

236 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

But she explained that Makhno was determined
to reach us; he would trust no one else with the
message, and therefore she had volunteered to
come. It was evident that danger had lost all
terror for her. "We have been living in con
stant peril for years," she said simply.

Divested of her disguise, she revealed much
beauty. She was a woman of twenty-five, with
a wealth of jet-black hair of striking lustre.
"Nestor had hoped that you and Alexander
Berkman would manage to come, but he waited
in vain," she began. "Now he sent me to tell
you about the struggle he is waging and he hopes
that you will make his purpose known to the
world outside." Late into the night she related
the story of Makhno which tallied in all im
portant features with that told us by the two
Ukrainian visitors in Petrograd. She dwelt
on the methods employed by the Bolsheviki to
eliminate Makhno and the agreements they had
repeatedly made with him, every one of which
had been broken by the Communists the mo
ment immediate danger from invaders was over.
She spoke of the savage persecution of the mem
bers of the Makhno army and of the numerous
attempts of the Bolsheviki to trap and kill Nes
tor. That failing, the Bolsheviki had murdered

KIEV 237

his brother and had exterminated her own
family, including her father and brother. She
praised the revolutionary devotion, the heroism
and endurance of the povstantsi in the face of the
greatest difficulties, and she entertained us with
the legends the peasants had woven about the
personality of Makhno. Thus, for instance,
there grew up among the country folk the belief
that Makhno was invulnerable because he had
never been wounded during all the years of
warfare, in spite of his practice of always per
sonally leading every charge.

She was a good conversationalist, and her
tragic story was relieved by bright touches of
humour. She told many anecdotes about the
exploits of Makhno. Once he had caused a
wedding to be celebrated in a village occupied by
the enemy. It was a gala affair, everybody
attending. While the people were making merry
on the market place and the soldiers were suc
cumbing to the temptation of drink, Makhno's
men surrounded the village and easily routed
the superior forces stationed there. Having
taken a town it was always Makhno's practice
to compel the rich peasants, the kulaki, to give
up their surplus wealth, which was then divided
among the poor, Makhno keeping a share for his

238 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA

army. Then he would call a meeting of the
villagers, address them on the purposes of the
povstantsi movement, and distribute his litera
ture.

Late into the night the young woman related
the story of Makhno and makhnovstchina. Her
voice, held low because of the danger of the
situation, was rich and mellow, her eyes shone
with the intensity of emotion. "Nestor wants
you to tell the comrades of America and Europe/'
she concluded, "that he is one of them— an
Anarchist whose aim is to defend the Revolution
against all enemies. He is trying to direct the
innate rebellious spirit of the Ukrainian peasant
into organized Anarchist channels. He feels
that he cannot accomplish it himself without the
aid of the Anarchists of Russia. He himself is
entirely occupied with military matters, and he
has therefore invited his comrades throughout
the country to take charge of the educational
work. His ultimate plan is to take possession of
a small territory in Ukraina and there establish
a free commune. Meanwhile, he is determined
to fight every reactionary force. "

Makhno was very anxious to confer personally
with Alexander Berkman and myself, and he
proposed the following plan. He would arrange

KIEV 239

to take any small town or village between Kiev
and Kharkov where our car might happen to be.
It would be carried out without any use of vio
lence, the place being captured by surprise. The
stratagem would have the appearance of our
having been taken prisoners, and protection
would be guaranteed to the other members of the
Expedition. After our conference we would be
given safe conduct to our car. It would at the
same time insure us against the Bolsheviki, for
the whole scheme would be carried out in mili
tary manner, similar to a regular Makhno raid.
The plan promised a very interesting adventure
and we were anxious for an opportunity to meet
Makhno personally. Yet we could not expose
the other members of the Expedition to the risk
involved in such an undertaking. We decided
not to avail ourselves of the offer, hoping that
another occasion might present itself to meet the
povstantsi leader.

Makhno's wife had been a country school
teacher; she possessed considerable information
and was intensely interested in all cultural prob
lems. She plied me with questions about Ameri
can women, whether they had really become
emancipated and enjoyed equal rights. The
young woman had been with Makhno and his

24o MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
army for several years, but she could not recon
cile herself to the primitive attitude of her people
in regard to woman. The Ukrainian woman,
she said, was considered an object of sex and
motherhood only. Nestor himself was no ex
ception in this matter. Was it different in
America? Did the American woman believe in
free motherhood and was she familiar with the
subject of birth control?

It was astonishing to hear such questions from
a peasant girl. I thought it most remarkable
that a woman born and reared so far from the
scene of woman's struggle for emancipation
should yet be so alive to its problems. I spoke
to the girl of the activities of the advanced
women of America, of their achievements and
of the work yet to be done for woman's emanci
pation. I mentioned some of the literature
dealing^ with these subjects. She listened eag
erly. "I must get hold of something to help
our peasant women. They are just beasts of
burden/' she said.

Early the next morning we saw her safely out
of the house. The same day, while visiting the
Anarchist club, I witnessed a peculiar sight.
The club had recently been reopened after hav
ing been raided by the Tcheka. The local

KIEV 24I

Anarchists met in the club rooms for study and
lectures; Anarchist literature was also to be had
there. While conversing with some friends I
noticed a group of prisoners passing on the street
below. Just as they neared the Anarchist head
quarters several of them looked up, having evi
dently noticed the large sign over the club
rooms. Suddenly they straightened up, took
off their caps, bowed, and then passed on. I
turned to my friends. "Those peasants are
probably makhnovstsi," they said; "the Anarchist
headquarters are sacred precincts to them."
How exceptional the Russian soul, I thought,
wondering whether a group of American work
ers or farmers could be so imbued with an
ideal as to express it in the simple and significant
way the makhnovstsi did. To the Russian his
belief is indeed an inspiration.

Our stay in Kiev was rich in varied experiences
and impressions. It was a strenuous time dur
ing which we met people of different social strata
and gathered much valuable information and
material. We closed our visit with a short trip
on the river Dniepr to view some of the old
monasteries and cathedrals, among them the
celebrated Sophievski and Vladimir. Imposing
edifices, which remained intact during all the

242 MY DISILLUSIONMENT IN RUSSIA
revolutionary changes, even their inner life con
tinuing as before. In one of the monasteries
we enjoyed the hospitality of the sisters who
treated us to real Russian tea, black bread, and
honey. They lived as if nothing had happened
in Russia since 1914; it was as if they had passed
the last years outside of the world. The monks
still continued to show to the curious the sacred
caves of the Vladimir Cathedral and the places
where the saints had been walled in, their ossified
bodies now on exhibition. Visitors were daily
taken through the vaults, the accompanying
priests pointing out the cells of the celebrated
martyrs and reciting the biographies of the most
important of the holy family. Some of the
stories related were wonderful beyond all human
credence, breathing holy superstition with every
pore. The Red Army soldiers in our group
looked rather dubious at the fantastic tales of
the priests. Evidently the Revolution had in
fluenced their religious spirit and developed a
sceptical attitude toward miracle workers.

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